


Sex with Mythical Creatures

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Just the Smut Please [3]
Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angels, Angels vs. Demons, Blood Drinking, Demon Konoe, Demon Sex, Dubious Consent, Halloween, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reincarnation, Sex with Angels, Soulmates, Spirits, Switching, Vampire Sex, Yôkai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: This is the beginning of a new collection of stories for the Just the Smut series, so far involving Nitro +Chiral Lamento characters. They may act slightly OOC since many of them will be mythical creatures.Though I have written some strange mythical sex scenes before, I won't include anything previously published in this work. Only new stories.Each chapter is a one-shot and meant to be enjoyed on its own. I haven't really written one-shots before, so I'd like to get better. And this collection is kind of in the spirit of Halloween and Kinktober.Some of these stories may be offensive and gross. I try to offer a summary in advance. The first one isn't too bad, though. It's just been on my mind since I sat through Vampire Knight again.





	1. The Desperation of a Vampire - Rai x Konoe

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Vampire Konoe](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/423407) by foxyladycpz. 
  * Inspired by [Of Angels and Demons](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/423410) by foxyladycpz. 



> Konoe is a vampire. Rai is a bounty hunter. It's mating season. Perhaps they can come to an agreement.
> 
> You can guess what happens. Fairly non-con/dub-con.
> 
> (Yes, they are both still cats.)
> 
> Written from Konoe's POV. And yes, it's super corny and predictable.

I’m thirsty.

My throat is dry, my mouth parched. My body feels like it is eating itself from the inside. 

My limbs are weak from hunger, unable to move, making my body feel heavy, as though I am turning into stone. A silver chain weighs lashes my body to the floor, wrapped across my arms and legs, my waist, my throat, preventing any movement, any escape, any relief...

And yet... I smell my salvation. It’s so close. It’s right _here_ —he just walked through the door, after leaving me alone with my suffering for countless hours. 

My vision is tinted red and my pupils narrow into slits when I smell his delectable scent. 

It’s a heavenly fragrance: clean and pure, strong and faithful, loyal and proud. And I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I crave it—I need it—how much longer must I wait? My exhausted body shakes when I think about how much I want it.

My claws are drawn, and my white and brown fur bristles, and my tail whips back and forth—I must have it. I have to feed—I need just a taste—just a small taste would be enough.

Please. Let this suffering end soon. Please—just a _taste_.

My captor watches me with his pale blue eyes cold as ice. At the moment, he sits out of my line of sight, behind my head in a chair just beyond my vision. He finds me fascinating enough to observe me for hours—but he hasn’t ended me yet. There is something unusual about this cat from the other cats whose blood I’ve consumed. And his scent is even more powerful tonight. 

Well—is it even night? I’ve lost track of how long he has kept me here, in this cell—dark, devoid of windows and furniture save that single chair—I can feel his strong gaze on me. A beastly growl emanates from my body when I try to speak, and no words will form. My ears twitch when his voice sinks into them.

“You’ve had better days, haven’t you? Looking a little worse for wear? Your animalistic instincts are taking over.” It’s a low voice, spoken calmly and powerfully—which, in order to capture a creature like me, he has to be. He must be a vampire hunter or a bounty hunter who knows my kind. He knew _exactly_ what to do. 

“Please,” I beg. I need to try to enchant him again—but it seems he is aware of my ability and so he stays out of my eyesight. A soft sweeping sound tickles my ears, as I lie helpless on the floor. He must be even closer than I realized. That must be his tail, brushing against the ground—right by my head—and it touches the tip of my ear, and a strange static electric shock makes my ear twitch.

I smell the scent of his fur. I know it’s long and white. He smells clean, pure, just like its color. My mouth waters and I feel an overpowering need. 

I want him. I need blood.

“Please,” I repeat. “Help me. I am thirsty—I am starving.”

Perhaps—and this occurred to me while he was gone—he _is_ a hunter. Perhaps he heard of cats being randomly attacked, and he was hired to exterminate me—but if that is true, what is the delay? Why starve me first?

“It’s only been three days,” his clear voice states neutrally. “Can’t your kind go without feeding for weeks at a time, or are you still a young hatchling?”

I take offense at his words. Vampires are not “hatched,” as he calls it, and I can’t keep myself from making a contemptuous clicking sound with my tongue. That earns me a chuckle, which I can’t say I’ve heard before. He usually only speaks a single cold sentence and then simply observes me, lying here, suffering. Apparently, tonight, he’s in the mood to talk and he’s amused.

“You’re not young, then? You _look_ young—you look like you were turned even before your first heat. Or are you just a small breed?”

 _He_ can say that—for when I saw him earlier, on that first day, he _towered_ over me. I would never have normally attempted to feed on such a creature but I found his white fur and pale blue eyes amazingly attractive—almost otherworldly. I attempted to enchant him for his irresistible scent, and I failed. He caught me easily with that silver chain, knocking me unconscious. I woke up here in this cell.

I’m an immortal creature. I didn’t think I _could_ lose consciousness. I’ve never failed an attack quite this miserably—perhaps my sire was right to abandon me.

“What do you want? If you’re waiting to starve me to death, it may take a while,” I mutter dejectedly. If he knows about the silver, he probably also knows a wooden stake to the heart would turn me to ash, exposing me to sunlight would burn me, and decapitation would kill me—and I’ve seen those swords he wields. “Why not use your sword and be done with it?”

“Are you really so desperate to leave this world?”

His question surprises me.

“Of course not—I’m just dying of thirst and would do anything to be rid myself of it.”

“You do look in some amount of discomfort. I'm afraid that can't be helped. Does the silver hurt you?” His voice softens, which I also have heard before.

It does—it burns my skin like scalding water when I move, and when I don’t, it adds tremendous weight to my body. But the pain from the silver is _nothing_ compared to this yearning, this longing, this  _hunger_ , which has only increased since he has entered the small cell. His scent only intensifies my hunger. 

“Yes, it hurts.” I decide to stay honest to a certain degree. Perhaps he wishes to learn more about my kind, and I am his research subject. What else would he want with me? Why keep me here otherwise? More importantly, how can I get him into my line of sight so I can enchant him?

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” I hear rustling behind me—like he is pulling items out of a bag—and that makes me nervous.

I bristle completely and growl lowly.

“I take that’s a yes? In that case, would you like some bread? Meat? Cheese? Water?”

I consider his offer. I can eat food, but it does not satisfy my hunger. However, if he shares his meal with me, won’t he _have_ to face me?

“Please,” I beg.

He gets up out of his chair—I hear his boots padding against the floor—and he approaches my body. I try not to look too eager as he walks into my line of sight. Almost violently, however, before I can say anything, he yanks the chains wrapped around my body, forcing me into a submissive kneel, and he pushes me against the wall for support. Just now, though, when he touched my body, I felt a sort of strange electrical shock. What was that?

Now, if I just lift my chin a _little_ I can gaze into his face. However, I’m bewildered when I feel something soft touch my chin: his hand—tilting my face toward his—almost as though he _wants_ me to hypnotize him. His touch almost singes my chin at first, making me blink in surprise, but it fades quickly and warms to the touch.

When I look into his face, his beauty takes my breath away. It isn’t just his eyes, which return my gaze boldly, but the shape of his lips—slightly too plush for his face, giving him a softer look than he otherwise would have. He has sharply chiseled cheekbones and an elegant nose—unlike my own, which is turned up slightly. His ears are slightly too small—smaller than mine, anyway—and have a rounded shape, rather than pointed, and they are covered in white fur that looks silky to the touch. I would love to lick the fur deep inside those ears.

That hair—I get a full view of it again—is molten silver, cascading down his body to his waist, brushing his neck and his throat, where I see the _perfect_ vein pulsing to the beat of his heart beneath his perfect pale skin. I want to put my mouth on his neck—I want to lick it—and then, I want to sink in my fangs and drink my fill.

He is standing before me now, as I remain on my knees, and he is staring into my eyes. 

“Your eyes have changed color permanently, it seems,” he remarks. My eyes turn red when I need to feed. I have to speak—I _have_ to hypnotize him—and I try to focus my gaze on his eyes—but they are traveling down the rest of my body, giving me an unfamiliar feeling of being the prey, rather than the predator. “Will they return to gold if you drink blood?”

“Sit down with me,” I say, a desperate tone in my voice, despite my best efforts to control my racing heart. I focus all my energy into the words I’m saying, and I see his ears twitch. “Please, sit by me.” Is it working?

The handsome, straight face breaks into a soft smile. Ugh—his smile tells me my attempt has failed once again! But gods, smiling he is even more attractive.

“That’s an impressive try, especially given your current state,” he says.

Wait—does he _know_ what I’m trying to do, and he’s _allowing_ it? Why isn’t this working? I’ve _never_ met a cat immune to hypnosis, but he seems to be. He keeps my chin in his hand while he examines the rest of my body, almost like he is appraising me.

“Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Please, I’m cold—so cold. Please sit next to me,” I beg again, my frustration building as my yearning and hunger increases. It’s obvious from the sound of my voice that I’m frustrated, and I cannot keep my feelings in check.

I’m desperate—I want his blood— _his_ —and no one else’s. 

“I’ll ask again since you don’t seem to realize the position you’re in. What is your name?” He brings his face much closer to mine, and his scent is incredibly alluring. It makes my mouth water, and my pupils dilate. I lick my lips to prevent myself from drooling. A strand of silver hair brushes my cheek.

“Please. _Please_ ,” I beg, and to my horror, a tear sneaks past my defenses, slipping down my cheek and dripping to the floor. It makes a slightly muffled sound, like a raindrop.

“What’s this? Tears? A vampire who weeps? Come now.” He brushes the tear from my cheek. Again, that sense of static electricity surges through my skin, making my eyes widen. What _is_ that?

“What situation?” I ask, distracted from my task of begging him to offer me his throat by the unexpected touch. When has a cat been able to touch me so freely? Perhaps if he leans a little closer, I can catch him by surprise. I lower my eyes, letting a few more tears escape from under my dark lashes.

“I didn’t know creatures such as you could weep. Tell me, would you rather I left you alone?” 

“No!” I exclaim, looking up. “Please don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here alone in this place—”

“Bound by chains, starving, and helpless to escape?” he reminds me gently. “I asked your name. Do you have a name?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s been so long since I’ve used it. It’s Konoe.”

“Where are you from, originally?”

I have to think for a moment. I was made a vampire only a few years ago, but my former mortal life is quite hazy. “I believe it was Karou.”

“Konoe of Karou—it seems to fit you quite well, except for these eyes of yours.” He runs his other hand down my cheek and jaw softly, dragging claws down my throat—ever so softly. Again, a soft smoldering sensation rushes across my skin with the touch of his fingers. Is it him? What is he doing? It makes me shiver, and his touch leaves a trail of that inviting fragrance in its wake.

“Where are you from? I’ve never seen a cat like you.” I take in his form—and indeed, I’ve never seen a cat his size. He is tall, lean, muscular. He has very nice legs. I wonder what it would be like to suck blood from his femoral artery, right on his thigh. What was I thinking when I approached him? I remember exactly—I was attracted by that aroma, which is growing stronger by the minute, along with my torment.

“Not around here,” he says cryptically, dropping my chin and pulling his chair closer. I remain on my knees before him, my face now pointed at the floor. I glance up at him through my eyelashes, keeping my eyes on him. “You are a pretty little creature. Vicious, but quite pretty.”

I don’t move when he says those words. They are true, and they strike terror into my heart. He _must_ be a vampire hunter. 

“Are you a hunter? Specifically looking for my kind?” I ask, slightly fearful.

“I suppose you could call me that,” he answers. “I was summoned here to deal with you.”

“Deal with me specifically?” A small tremor shakes my voice.

“You’ve been wreaking havoc on this town for months. City dwellers are afraid to go out after dark for fear of being attacked. But you leave your victims alive—which is odd for your kind. Your victims are different from other vampires' victims, who are left completely drained of their blood. You leave your victims  _alive_. Terrorized, yes, and oddly, slightly ashamed—which made me think you might be doing something to them other than drinking their blood—”

I interrupt his speech with another offended click of my tongue, and say boldly, “I’m a vampire, not a pervert.”

"I was hoping you might be a little of both,” the silver cat says. He shows me his lovely teeth in a grin.

 _What_? I feel myself blushing—all the way up to my ears—and I am completely flustered by what he has just said to me. I’m a little desperate to change the subject. Can I still blush? I can’t remember the last time that happened. Even my ears feel hot. 

“Are you simply an incompetent vampire, or do you leave your victims alive for a reason?” he continues, a mocking smirk on his face. He is indeed an attractive cat. It’s why I chose him as a victim.

“There are a few of us who try to live the best we can while doing as little harm to the world around us,” I say evasively.

“So it’s deliberate, then, Konoe?” 

“Yes,” I reply, shivering slightly when I hear him say my name. Then, I am overcome with curiosity. “You, then, what should I call you?” 

“You can call me Rai, or _master_ , whichever you like,” the silver cat says with another smile, swishing his long tail in a prideful arc behind him on the chair.

“You are _not_ my master,” I growl lowly.

“Who do you serve, then? What master allows such sloppy work on your part—a vampire who tries not to kill his prey? How have you not already been dispatched by your own kind?”

Valid questions, all of them. I _am_ somewhat of a disappointment as a vampire. But I never wished to be one in the first place.

“I am my own master.” 

His blood still calls out to me—that fragrance—gods—he smells so good.

“I’m sorry if I don’t make sense,” I say, lowering my body to the floor in a humble bow. “I’m too weak to fight. If I were a normal vampire who consumed the entire person, I wouldn’t be so desperate and starving! But consider, not _all_ vampires who walk this earth wanted this life. I never wanted this.”

“So you have no family then? Where is your sire?” 

“He left me on my own to starve to death because I would not kill my prey. I tried eating other animals, but nothing sates my hunger. And I did kill accidentally, once, after I had been away from blood for too long, and I couldn’t stop myself. Now, I do not kill. I take only just enough to live.” 

“Hmm, I see. So you stop yourself from killing? Just _shy_  of killing?” 

“No—that’s wrong. I drink just enough so that the cats will not miss it. I try to enchant them, so they will forget, but it doesn’t last forever.”

“Enchant?” he asks curiously, taking hold of my chin again, and again, his touch singes me. “That's what you were trying to do earlier, isn't it? It seems you need some practice. Were you hoping to take my blood?”

“I need it to survive!” Plus… it smells so tempting.

“So—you couldn’t enchant me, then?” he says, in that calm voice. “You are indeed in a desperate situation. As, coincidentally, am I.” 

“What?” I ask. I’m flummoxed, and I sit up again, looking at his eyes. They are indeed lovely: pale blue, like the summer sky I haven't seen in years.

“I’m finding myself currently in season. As a bounty hunter, it’s not usually a problem. I make good money. I can find compatible partners whenever I like. Yet—for some reason—I am strangely drawn to _you_. I cannot bring myself to kill you as the job requires.”

In season? I’m not sure what he means. And wait—kill me? He _is_ supposed to kill me, then?

“You are going to kill me?” My ears lower fearfully. “Why didn’t you kill me when you first brought me here?” 

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure you _were_ the vampire. You looked… very unlike other vampires I have hunted.” His long arm reaches out and touches my face and shocking me once again, leaving a trail of delicious scent on my skin. I lick my lips.

“But now you are. I do not deny it. Plus you have kept me restrained by silver since I’ve been here,” I point out. I'm confused by his behavior. He is unlike any hunter I have heard of.

“I suppose,” Rai answers. “However, there is something mightily attractive about your scent. I was hoping we might come to an agreement.” 

"An agreement?" My ears perk up, though I am wary. He smiles, a genuine smile, glancing at my ears. 

“Gods, your ears are abnormally large, aren’t they? Is that a vampire trait or a characteristic of your breed?”

“My ears are normal,” I say defensively. What is he thinking? Insulting an immortal creature? He must have a death wish—although… I can’t do anything about it at this point. So instead, I return the insult, though, in my desperate state, it doesn’t sound like the insult I intend. “At least mine serve a function. I don’t know how you can hear anything with those cute little rounded nubs of yours.”

“Cute? You think my ears are cute?” His eyes widen suddenly, and then he laughs. “I might just have a chance, then.” He reaches out and strokes my ears, and I cannot do anything about it, even if I duck my head. Being touched so freely, so casually, not being feared… it’s a strange feeling. But it's possible it feels so weird because of all the static electricity running through the air tonight. It's odd.

“What _kind_ of agreement?” I am blushing again, I can feel it in my ears. Gods, that scent is sinfully good and sends a small shiver through my body. I hope his suggestion isn’t complicated since my mind is not functioning properly.

“In exchange for helping me with my current ailment, I would offer you some blood,” Rai says, very casually.

“Yes, please,” I agree immediately. He is actually offering me his blood! I would do _anything_ for it—even just a small taste! “But… I don’t understand your ailment. What ailment?”

The silver cat smiles at me. “How old were you when you were turned?”

“I think I was almost 17. Why?”

“Is it possible you never experienced your first mating season?” Rai asks.

“Mating season? What does that have to do with anything?” I try to pull away, but of course, I can't move. What is he talking about? Vampires don’t mate. We cannot have children in the traditional sense. That is not how we sire children.

“Yes. Around that age, twice a year you go into heat. It should be happening now—if you were still Ribika. When I don’t find a compatible partner, I take matters into my own hands, but for some reason, I feel attracted to _you_.” Taking matters into his own hands? I shiver for a moment when I think of the silver cat touching himself. Why is that so sexy to think about? Have I ever had a sexual impulse as a vampire? Mostly, I simply yearn for blood, which satisfies all those urges.

“Wait just a minute,” I say. “ _This_ is what you need help with?”

“Yes,” Rai’s voice is very soft, and he is very close to me again.

“You want to offer me your blood in exchange for... fucking me?” I ask. A small shiver crawls down my tail, fluffing out the fur.

“That is it exactly,” Rai says softly, and this time, he strokes my tail gently, running his claws through the fur, which sends another strange shiver through my body. I feel a shock when he touches my tail, making the fur fluff out even more.

“You are _asking_ me,” I say. “Couldn’t you just do what you wanted, without my permission, seeing you have me restrained with the silver?” 

“I suppose I could,” Rai says casually. “That kind of thing doesn’t appeal to me. I’d rather get your consent and… participation. Although if it appealed to _you_ , I would certainly consider it.” He eyes me closely. Honestly, these words leave me slightly dumbfounded. I’ve never had such an offer before.

“Why me?” I ask.

“You smell perfect, and I find you adorable and attractive.” His words come out in an instant without hesitation.

Adorable? A vicious, blood-thirsty monster? He finds me adorable? And attractive? And wait—that can’t be right—my mind, fuzzy with desire for his blood—he is perfect. He is tall and lean, muscular and powerful—with that pale skin, shining silver fur and those piercing pale blue eyes—he could have anyone he wanted! 

“I might need to drink _first_ ,” I say cautiously. “And I haven’t done that... other thing before.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take care of _everything_. You won’t need to lift a finger. And of course, I will feed you first.”

At his words, my heart starts to race. He is offering me his blood—of his own free will. Yes, I have to exchange something for it, but _still_. His scent—I stare at his throat—I cannot resist. I have to lick my lips again and swallow the saliva in my mouth.

“ _Please_ ,” I whisper, a note of desperation in my voice.

“So we have an agreement?” he asks. Isn’t he worried I might drain him?

“Yes.” Even more saliva fills my mouth in anticipation.

“Well, then. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, shall we?”

With those words, he picks me up, wrapped in the silver chains, and throws me over his shoulder. I wince—even over my clothes, the silver singes my skin, and I repress my cry as best as I can by pressing my lips together. I wouldn’t trust a creature like me either. He carries me from this cell like I weigh nothing. 

The cell-like room is in the basement, though I do not remember being brought downstairs. He carries me up a single flight of stairs and through a doorway, down the hall to the right. He opens the door, and there is a _bed_ in this cozy room. How long has it been since I have touched a bed? 

He sets me down gently, lying me on my back. 

“Did the silver burn you? I’m sorry.” He moves it from my body, wrapping it across my wrists and my ankles. I’m still unable to move, even restrained this way. This close to his body, though—my senses are in overdrive, my fangs are drawn and my pupils are dilated.

“Please,” I beg again. I can’t wait. He smells so good. I’m still staring at his neck, which is even closer to me. He lifts my torso from the bed and pulls my face in close. However, just as I open my mouth, he pulls my chin up again, forcing eye contact.

“Remember how long you’ve been here. I understand your kind. Do not even _think_ about overstepping your bounds.”

“O-of course not,” I whisper. “I would _never_.” I’m already reaching my tongue out, tasting his throat. He has a sweet taste on the surface of his skin—the taste of his scent—maybe because of the season? I don’t know. He is _delicious_. I want to pierce his throat right away, but I restrain myself to save him the pain and to prolong my own enjoyment. 

My body trembles in anticipation, and he shivers, too, beneath my touch. I lick him again and am rewarded with another shiver. My saliva can numb the area if I lick him enough, so I lick him once more—and he sighs. What a sound—music to my ears!

Then—I slowly pierce his neck with my fangs, ever so gently. A shallow gasp comes out of his lips, which make my ears quiver. Thick, juicy drops of blood spill into my mouth—and it tastes even better than I’d anticipated, even better than his scent. Who is this cat? _What_ is he?

My face flushes and my body heats up, and I suck very gently and move my tongue against the tiny puncture wounds I’ve created. Ever so careful not to take too much, I sip from him slowly—the blood dripping slowly into my mouth, quenching my thirst in a way no other cat’s blood has ever done—maybe because I was so thirsty and because of the anticipation. However, I feel like Rai is something special. His blood feels hot when I swallow it. I feel its heat sliding down my throat. 

I realize I am purring, or growling, or both—and I can’t help myself. Soon, as expected, I sense his emotions—like I always do when I drink blood from other cats. And this cat is filled with _desire_. Not just desire, but a desire for _me_ , and for my body, in a strange, intense way—a kind of desire I’ve never felt myself. It’s almost overpowering and paralyzing. How is he remaining so cool and calm? 

As I drink, I’m immersed in his scent—from his hair and his skin—and a slight film of sweat that coats his body. It’s captivating and wonderful, adding to the taste of the blood in my mouth, the sweetest delicacy I’ve ever tasted. I enjoy it slowly, my ears twitching with his every sigh and movement, paying close attention to his responses. His hand slowly strokes my back and one is massaging the base of my tail, making my fur fluff out.

Despite the delicious taste and satisfying texture of the blood in my mouth and my throat, I’m overwhelmed quickly by his feelings—I don’t know what to do with them. My body gets hotter and flushed, a strange sensation pools in my hips and waist, making me feel heavy, and I start breathing faster. He has _no_ fear of me, which is odd. Usually, my victims have at least a little fear, but he doesn’t have _any_.

I am struck with an image from his mind—of myself—lying face down on the bed, naked—and it stuns me enough that I pull my mouth away from his neck, licking my lips and the puncture wounds carefully.

As usually happens after feeding, I am tired and drowsy afterward, like waking from a dream—plus I’m completely overwhelmed with emotion. I’m swallowing what is left in my mouth when I am pushed down to the bed and roughly turned to my stomach. That image is left in my mind… and I feel a twinge of fear. 

Hands stroke me from behind—still overwhelmed with those feelings of desire—stroking my sides, slipping under the hem of my shirt, stroking my skin directly, my abdomen, touching my chest, toying with my nipples. And a strange noise comes out of my mouth. It sounds like a sigh of pleasure. 

What is happening to me?

A weight presses against my back—warm and heavy—is it his body? Something wet slips into my ear. It’s incredibly loud and it startles me, making my fur fluff up and bristle. 

“So pretty.” Words are whispered low in my ear, and my shirt is stripped off over my head, taking me off-guard.

“Ah!” I can’t suppress my voice, but now, his body feels so much hotter against my skin. Has he stripped off his shirt as well? It feels like he has more hands than just two, and his silver hair brushes against me. It’s soft and silky, dripping against my skin, its tempting scent tingling my nose. But I still cannot move. 

When his fingers drop toward my navel, I curl my stomach in slightly, and I am pulled against his body.

His hand loosens my pants, and I start sweating, feeling hot and nervous. His hand brushes over my clothed groin, and I make a strange sound again, and I protest with words now.

“Uh—wait—just a minute— _please_ ,” I beg. I'm still filled with confusion and a strange hot feeling.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispers, his mouth still close to my ear, and his tongue squishing around the white, downy fur deep inside my ear. “Is this the first time you’ve been touched like this?” 

I feel myself blushing and I’m ashamed. I also feel slightly breathless, because the touch feels so good and makes me feel like I am melting.

“Relax,” he murmurs—it’s definitely a command that shivers through my body—while he lowers his hand into my now loosened trousers.

Before touching my groin, he smoothes out the soft fur just below my navel, ever so tenderly, then cups his palm around my dick. His hand feels so hot—and so big—and I’m completely erect. I shiver when I feel his tongue licking my nape—I’m surrounded by his scent, by his large body, and I cannot move. I can only submit to his caresses. I feel… helpless.

Another loud moan comes out of my mouth—and I melt into his hand and into the large body behind me. I don’t feel like myself, and I’m confused and slightly afraid. Usually, I control the cats around me—I’m never controlled, nor do my emotions get the better of me. I still feel this cat’s desire for me, flowing through my own veins, confusing me even more, stoking the flame deep in the core of my being.

“What—why—you don’t have to—” I stammer, but the words fall away into the pillow under my head. And again, I wonder when the last time I felt a pillow for any amount of time. I sleep in the forests—deep within the forest, under cover of the branches and the roots of trees, in caves, on the forest floors, or sometimes in the cellar or barn of an unsuspecting victim. This is such a comfort, such a soft feeling—so nostalgic—I’d forgotten how wonderful beds are! 

“Just hush, and enjoy yourself. That would please me. It’s part of offering yourself to me, isn’t it?” Words are spun lowly in my ear, and my dick starts to drip.

I realize I have lost track of his other hand while he has been stroking me, and his other hand suddenly takes its place. It feels cold, compared to the one that has been stroking me. I jump in surprise and am shushed instantly—the cold heats up soon enough—for this hand feels like it is covered in something slick, some kind of lubrication, something that makes his hand move more smoothly, and he wraps his hand around me, and I can feel each one of his fingers, making another sigh of indulgence leak from the corners of my tightly closed lips.

Chills rush through my body and pleasure pools in my hips, building more and more—and then—I feel his other hand touch below the base of my tail. Just a single finger paints lubrication over my entrance, ever so lightly, in a teasing manner. It frightens me and sends a strange shiver through my body at the same time. I bristle my tail fully and lower it suddenly, trying to struggle—I’ve never even stimulated myself there—and I am filled with apprehension. 

Does he mean to enter me there? I should have asked—because he is a large breed, much larger than me—and since he has been pressing his body up against me, I have been able to feel his erection, and there is no _way_ it will fit comfortably, if at all! This is crazy! 

“Wait a minute,” I say. “Just a minute— _please_!” I can’t keep the fear from my voice, but it comes out covered in lust.

“Are you afraid?” he rumbles lowly. “I will prepare you so it shouldn’t hurt—and you just smell so good to me—you smell _compatible_ —so it should feel good. I'll make you feel so good.”

I think quickly—there has to be something else I could do—perhaps my hand? My mouth?

“Please,” I beg. “Maybe we could try some other way—I could take you in my mouth—”

He stops his movements for a moment and chuckles lowly in my ear.

“You think I would allow a vampire I _just_ met to put my dick in his mouth? And a hungry one, at that? Who smells like he’s in heat? _No_. You will be fine. Just relax. If it hurts, let me know and I will stop—and you’ve already agreed—you can’t back out now. We’d both be miserable at this point.”

I tremble and shiver when I feel his grip on my dick increase, and he presses his thumb into my slit—and I can’t help the mewling sound that comes out of my mouth—it just feels so good! And right at that moment, I feel his finger slip inside me, through that tight ring of muscle, and I gasp. But to my surprise, it _doesn’t_ hurt—my body doesn’t feel at all like my own. A loud purr emanates from my body, and I hear another whisper.

“Does is hurt?” 

“Uh—um, n-no,” I breathe softly, paying attention to the strange feeling of that long slender finger exploring inside my body—stroking my inner walls and pulling back out. Soon, when it pushes back in, a second finger is added, with added lubrication, and those two fingers scissor me apart inside, sending an electrifying sensation shooting up my spine and down my tail. 

What _is_ this? What is wrong with my body? Who _am_ I?

The sounds coming out of me are not indicating pain in any sense. In fact, in some way, I feel like my body is being toyed with and manipulated. Rai is working me up and then easing me off, but those fingers inside me—they are oddly intriguing, and I can’t think of anything else except wanting _more_. I have this strange feeling of wanting to be filled _more_.

I wrap my tail around his arm, impatiently—and he removes his hand from my dick, stroking the fur on my tail, paying particular attention to the hooked tip. Even that small touch makes me tremble. Then, he removes his fingers from my body and pulls me up onto all fours. I feel like a puppet, but then something much larger and hotter pushes against my entrance. I lift my tail at the base, lashing it nervously.

“This shouldn’t hurt you. You will be fine. Just relax your body.” His voice sounds like honey to my ears and it makes my dick respond. 

I swallow the saliva dripping from my mouth—I’m thirsty again—feeling a hunger similar to that hunger for blood inside my body—when he starts to enter me, pulling up the base of my tail firmly and then wrapping his hands around my hips. 

At first, my ears twitch, thinking I should try to escape, but I don’t want to—I _want_ to feel him inside me. While there is pressure, I do not feel pain. I feel an impossibly tight, full feeling as he slowly presses inside me—and when I finally feel the smooth skin of his thighs brushing my ass, he sighs low and deep, and I also can’t help a small contented sound of my own.

He pulls up on my tail sharply again, at the base, which straightens out my body slightly and sends an electrical pulse through my hips and spine. _He is inside me_ , just like his blood—only _more_ of him. It feels amazing. I see sparks flash in the back of my eyes, just from the barely noticeable movement of his ragged breathing. 

When he rocks his hips forward, sparks shoot across the backs of my eyelids and a gasping cry comes out of my mouth. What _is_ this? A shiver courses up my spine and bristles my tail and before I can recover, he rocks his hips forward again, causing the same reaction. 

I can hardly breathe—and soon I’m gasping for air, panting, and I lower my torso to the bed, allowing him to take me as he likes. He starts slowly, pushing himself in and dragging himself out—and he changes his angle slightly with each thrust. At one of those angle changes, he drags across a spot inside of me that makes my stomach drop in nauseating pleasure.

I cry out loud, gripping the sheets on the bed until my knuckles turn white. I’ve never felt anything like this before.

“Ho? Is this what I’ve been looking for?”

“Ah—no,” I protest, _afraid_ of that pleasure—it’s too much—and when he hits it again, all my fur bristles and I cry out again. And then he starts thrusting against that spot with a purpose, over and over, suddenly changing those languid exploring strokes to an almost violent pace.

I’m left gasping and wheezing, and drowning in a pleasure that frightens me—feeling like I may be thrown into the abyss—that I might die from this strange indulgence—and I hear my voice begging for mercy, in between the ragged, panting breaths squeezed from my lungs. 

“Please—please—please—stop!”

And he does stop—and suddenly. With all movement suspended, my body’s arousal becomes much more intense—my dick dripping in the sheets, my stomach pressed low against the bed, almost burned from the friction against the sheets, a pulling sensation from my abdomen to my dick that is a mix of pleasure and pain, that spot inside me excited and almost _glowing_ inside my body like some deep well of pleasure I might disappear within. Having it all stop so suddenly—it’s _torture_! I feel like I have an itch I can’t scratch, and my body is in misery.

“I’ve stopped,” Rai purrs mischievously in my ear. “Is _this_ what you wanted?”

“Um…” I don’t know how to answer. Even his voice alone makes me shiver with need. 

“I can feel you trembling. It doesn’t _hurt_ you, does it?”

“N-no...” I’m only afraid of that pleasure! It’s so intense! 

“Do you want me to stop now? I think you will be _miserable_ if I stop now.”

“Mmm, n-no...”

“Then, _tell me_ what you want,” comes the voice, low and sexy, as he is still inside me. Worse, I can feel his hand touching me right where we are connected, massaging the edge of my entrance. My body responds exaggeratedly, shuddering to that touch. 

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. You asked me to stop. But if you want something more, you’ll need to ask for it.”

Arrgh—my thighs quiver with desire and need, and I know he can feel them, especially because his hand strokes me, right between my legs, right where I am shaking. I’m sure he feels my desperation.

“All you have to do is let me know what you want.” His voice is so low, so sexy.

My tail is pulled lightly at the base, and a wave of incredible pleasure shoots through my body, leaving me gasping for breath. And then—he bites the tip of my tail which sends another shudder down my spine. I’m astonished by the state of my own body.

I cannot hold out much longer.

“Ah—ugh—please—just like before—I want more, just like you were doing before—please—hard and fast—take me hard and fast and don’t stop—please—until I come!” The broken words spill quietly from my lips, my face and ears burning, and I can feel him leaning over my back, his body over mine, licking the tip of my ear and sucking one into his mouth. 

“See? What a good boy you are," and that small bit of praise makes me shiver with delight. "It’s not so hard to ask for what you want,” he whispers. Then, he starts to move again—without giving me a chance to prepare—fast and hard—just like I asked—and I’m breathless. I don’t know what to do with my body or the obscene sounds coming out of it—I can’t even begin to suppress my voice, so I don’t. Purring and grunts of effort from behind me makes me purr, too, and I feel a giant surge threatening to overtake me.

As my climax approaches, passion swirls around inside my body, desperate for release, and I arch my back and bristle my tail, and then a deep wave of pleasure hits me. It feels like jumping off a cliff—and it’s _wonderful_. I let myself relax as pleasure shoots up from the core of my body, spilling into Rai’s fist, his lips and tongue sucking on the tip of my tail. Satisfaction rushes to every corner of my body in tingling sensations, wave after wave. 

It’s as good as drinking blood, easily. Could I survive with just sex, I wonder? I feel my insides clenching around Rai, and he comes, too, purring and with a soft gasp—and I feel him release inside my body—such a strange wet and hot sensation—which my body seems to accept in a strange way—weirdly—almost like drinking blood.

I relax, feeling as though I’ve just eaten a second meal, collapsing on the bed, and the silver cat collapses on top of me, pulling me out of the silver chains and holding me tightly against his body.

“Come here, kitten,” Rai whispers.

He begins to groom my ears—this time, thoroughly and gently. It’s a warm, safe sensation, being held in his arms, his tongue covering the surface of my ears, edging along the thin skin, delving deep inside that downy fur. I enjoy the strange feeling. Nostalgic. Although—he still doesn’t fear me. I wonder—he could probably kill me now, if he wanted. 

But I want to enjoy this moment.

“Thank you,” he whispers softly to me. “Thank you for trusting me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m tired. But I feel good—relaxed. It would be an excellent time to kill me, if you were thinking about it, although I would like to enjoy this feeling for just a while longer. You feel strangely safe for a bounty hunter.”

“You are a very unusual vampire. Perhaps I could come to an additional agreement with you,” Rai says, though his words are muffled through my ears, which are in his mouth. Is he smiling?

“What kind of agreement?” I can’t help my interest—he is always full of good ideas, it seems, with these agreements of his. 

“To bargain for your life,” he suggests casually. “Perhaps you might consider doing this kind of thing with me on a regular basis in exchange for my sparing and protecting your life.” 

“I might consider that,” I say. “However, I still need to eat.”

“What if I threw in some of my blood, as part of the agreement, as well?”

“How often?”

“Well, how often do you want to eat?” I turn to look at the silver cat’s face, and he is smiling broadly at me. He has a gorgeous set of teeth—white, beautiful, large, and sharp—and I lick the fangs poking over the top of his lips, and he kisses me, pulling my face in close to his, invading my mouth with his tongue. He tastes so good.

“Hmmpf. Let me _think_ about it,” I say capriciously. I’m a vampire, after all. I can’t agree to anything so rashly. Even if it involves this silver cat.


	2. An Escaped Demon - Tokino x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe failed the test at the Field of the Four Colors and has been living with Razel for about a decade in this one-shot. He has acclimated to his new role has Razel's servant and demon, but finds himself slightly bored one day while combing through the books in the library. He conjures a portal which returns him to Sisa (which somehow has survived Leak's attack), ten years later, a desire to feels something cold against his skin.
> 
> Konoe can read now, so he has changed somewhat from when he was a cat.

I know I will be punished for this little prank, but I am desperate for a change of scenery and temperature. Master likes it much hotter than I prefer—and even with my new body—my black horns, curving like those of a ram’s, and human ears and hairless tail—I’m now completely without fur. However, that does not mean I want to stay in this suffocating heat for eternity.

In the library, I discovered an old tome and with my magical ability—my gift of song remains, even in Razel’s desert world—I was able to create a portal to my old world. All I want is to breathe the fresh air of the forest again and feel something cool against my skin.

It’s only a matter of time before my master finds me, and the gods only know what he will do to me when he does. He takes my “training” seriously, but I haven’t done anything to displease him in quite a while. My place here is not as an equal but as his servant, and I miss my freedom. I’m willing to sacrifice a little pain for the sake of experiencing this freedom once more—or a lot of pain, as will probably be the case.

After I step through the portal, it closes up behind me instantly, and I fall into a freezing body of water—splashing and coughing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything cold against my skin—and this is _delightful_. It’s icy, fresh, and so cold that it makes my muscles cramp.

It’s _almost_ painful—but I swim in the water as long as I can tolerate, immersing my entire body and my hair, thoroughly soaking my clothing. When I finally am ready to come out, I realize that it may have been foolish to swim for so long in the current climate.

The weather is cold—cloudy and overcast—and it looks like it might snow. The leaves on the trees surrounding the forest are either brown or nonexistent, and the grass is dying off, hibernating for winter. Wonderful—I’m here at _just_ the right time—perhaps I will feel the tickle of snowflakes on my face and tongue.

But before any of this can happen, my body starts shivering and my teeth are chattering, my icy clothing is clinging to me, my fingers turn blue. I can even see puffs of breath in the air. My feet, dressed in sandals, are nearly purple, and my toes quiver. I need to find a way to warm up and quickly.

I shake the excess water from my hair and strip off my clothes. Soaking wet, my outfit is very heavy, and the water makes them stiff, almost as though they are freezing against my body. I hang the long obi over a branch of a tree, and I slip out of the short piece of fabric Razel calls a shirt, which exposes my chest and my abdomen and lay it across a rock. Finally, I pull off my long wide trousers, laying them out as well. I feel much lighter, but I’m still freezing.

The wind picks up, and I foolishly didn't bring any supplies with me. I’m hungry, too. Perhaps I need help. But this is such an isolated place—I’ve been here for some time (I don't really keep track of time anymore—that is, unless Razel is punishing me and is keeping me in isolation or some other form of timed disciplinary measure) and haven’t seen another soul. So I wander away from my clothing, but not too far—my sense of direction is as poor as it has ever has been—even as a demon, I haven’t been cured of this ailment.

My memory flashes back to when Razel first brought me to his world—his desert palace—when he permitted me to leave my cell for the first day. He began “training” my body in ways that would please him—which, as I remember, I foolishly resisted with all my might. Back then, I wanted to leave. I didn’t feel I belonged with him. I was desperate to escape. And I tried. Yet that demon took such pleasure in hunting me down—those fuzzy memories send a chill through my bones. Though I’m accustomed to his preferences now—I know now that he appreciates and values me.

This—this is _not_ an escape attempt, really. It _might_ be a provocation. It _might_ be an attempt to gain his attention. He has been spending too much time in this world, fulfilling contracts. But it is not an attempt to escape my fate as his eternal companion. 

As my mind wanders, I see a tall cat, carrying a large basket on his shoulder, walking along the path. He has orange hair and bright blue eyes—and he looks vaguely familiar—but my memories of my life before I was turned are so hazy that I cannot place his face. Plus years have probably passed, and he looks in his late 20s or early 30s. He is certainly handsome, however. And he looks friendly and gullible.

At first, he doesn’t sense my presence, as I can disguise myself well, hiding in the bushes. However, I need help, so I have to reveal myself. I hope my appearance doesn't disturb him.

“Please, kind sir—may I beg your assistance?” My voice has changed somewhat since becoming Razel’s servant. It’s softer, sexier, and much more enticing—at least, that is what my master has told me. This cat seems to like it, too, since he looks in my direction immediately, his ears perking up in interest. Those ears are lovely—large and covered in fur. I should very much like to stroke them or lick them with my forked tongue.

“Ah—of course—what’s happened?” He approaches slowly—and when I hear his voice, I’m struck with nostalgic feelings warming my chest—where my heart used to be. Like rays from the moon of light—that’s what his voice sounds like.

“I’ve had a rather rough arrival, and I’m afraid I’ve fallen into the lake. My clothes are completely drenched, and I’m currently drying them—but I’m so cold! Do you have anything to help warm me?”

“Into the lake?” He sounds concerned. "That's dangerous! It is cold enough to snow tonight—have you built a fire?”

“I have no supplies,” I reply softly. I have always disliked fire—even living with my master who rules over fire in his world. It’s one of the ways he punishes me—with fire. He knows it terrifies me and he uses that to his advantage. Try as I might, I cannot overcome my fear.

“Come, then—let’s get a fire started for you. I should camp for the night, anyway, and I will share my food with you. You must be freez—” but his voice stops right there, along with his footsteps. 

I am now standing within ten feet of him, leading the way to the lake, and I look over my shoulder to meet his gaze. I’m still shivering pathetically, my arms wrapped around myself, my hairless tail wrapped around my body—just like my old tail used to do—and I offer him a sexy smile. He is looking at me, jaw agape, most likely surprised by my nudity as well as my demon form.

“Didn't I mention I left my clothes to dry?” I say, almost mischievously. The cat with orange hair looks at me, blinking his blue eyes in surprise. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, but they were just so cold against my skin. Although I don't think stripping myself bare was the best idea, either.” I shrug and start walking.

The other cat does not move, and it occurs to me that he might fear me because I’m a demon. 

“Won’t you lend me your help?” I ask, softening my voice even more. “I have no powers of my own with which to injure you. I only operate on my master’s orders, and he did not give me permission to come here. I suspect it is only a matter of time before he finds me. He surely will reward you for seeing to my care.”

I take a small step closer to the tabby, and he starts walking toward me.

“Of course—I apologize—I always try to help travelers in need, regardless of who they are,” the cat says. He starts picking up sticks from around the forest floor. It seems like an odd activity. 

“Do you need sticks?” I ask. "Shall I help?"

“Fuel for the fire,” the cat says, looking at me with surprise. “Do you not build fires where you come from?”

“Oh, there are fires,” I say, not wanting to think about it too much. Perhaps coming here was not such a great idea after all. My master will surely be furious with me, and I hope he doesn't brand me again. Reflexively, my fingers brush against the brand on my inner right thigh. “It's just... I do not build them.” 

He gathers the sticks into a pile, surrounds the pile with stones, and pulls a small gray stone and a small piece of steel out of his pack. He rubs the stone against the steel of the sticks, and it sparks, makes the sticks smolder, and then catches flame. That stone... it’s a _flint_. I _remember_. I think I had one long ago, too.

“Where do you come from?” The orange cat asks, pulling out a few more items—the first of which is a large blanket. He spreads it out in front of the fire, and I notice he keeps looking at my face.

“I live in Razel’s world. He is the devil of wrath.”

“Wrath? You don’t seem terribly angry. How do you get along there?”

“Master says I am stubborn and useless at times, but he is enchanted by me—enough so he chose to make me his eternal companion, his servant, rather than consume my soul,” I lower my face toward the flame. Fire in this world is much nicer than Razel’s wrathful flames, I think. Peaceful, almost.

“Do you have a name? My name is Tokino. Come, sit here, and you can warm up in this blanket till your clothes are dry.”

Hearing his name sends a shiver down my spine. Do I _know_ him? He is so very familiar. I never expected to encounter anyone I knew from my old life. However, for now, I obediently walk over to the blanket and lower myself onto it. I allow him to approach—no creature but my master has been in close contact with me in such a long time, so having this interaction is refreshing and strange.

“Konoe. My name is Konoe.” I look directly into his face when I say my name, watching for any chance of recognition. He is just wrapping the blanket around my shoulders and drops it in surprise.

He peers closely at me. The moon of light setting in the sky, radiating a soft glow, he moves his body out of the way of the fire, to cast light on my face. He touches my chin gently, tilting my face up toward his own. 

“Oh, my gods,” he whispers, awestruck. “Your face is _exactly_ the same. You haven’t aged at all. Your voice sounded so familiar when I heard it. Oh, Konoe—so _this_ is where you have been all this time?”

I am slightly surprised by his reaction—he sounds relieved. There is so much warmth in his tone I hardly know what to say.

“Well, I’ve been living with my master, as I said,” I say carefully.

“Your ears—they have changed. You have these... horns? Can you hear with these?”

I push my hair behind my pointed human-like ears to expose them. “ I have ears as well,” I explain.

“Your tail—it moves just like your old tail—and it even has the same hooked tip... but you have no fur... and you seem the same but still so  _changed_.” He kneels in front of me. “It’s been over a decade since you and Rai left to find a cure for that curse.”

“Rai...” that name rings a bell, but I cannot remember. Something silver flashing in the light of the sun, the sound of swords clashing, perhaps? “I remember almost nothing of my life before I was transformed.”

“Konoe, I’m _so_ glad to see you! I never thought I’d see you again!” Tokino puts his arms around me, and they are surprisingly strong—and his scent is familiar, too. That feeling of nostalgia rips through my body again. It feels good. “I’m sorry you don’t remember me, but this is a _miracle_.”

I put my arms around the cat in front of me and plant a kiss on his lips—chaste, gentle, soft—and Tokino seems taken aback. He pulls away immediately.

“D-did you not like that?” I lower my face and lash my tail, sadly. Did I disappoint him? I cannot remember proper greetings from when I lived here, and I have been thoroughly retrained to please my new master. I don't know what else I should do. “I do not remember your customs. I am sorry.”

Tokino touches my face, and he smiles. He is beautiful when he smiles—a different beauty from my master, such a  _gentle_ beauty _._

“Not at all,” he says. He shows so much honest emotion it overwhelms me. “I was just surprised. Tell me about life in your world.” 

“I serve at the pleasure of my master. He is strict but fair. He rewards me when I please him and punishes me when I do not. He rules his kingdom, an isolated desert, in the way he sees fit. He fulfills contracts with those who call on him whenever rage or wrath is involved. However—I grew bored, and I needed a change in my environment. He taught me to read—both Ribikan and human letters—and gave me access to his library. I discovered I could make a portal to this land—and I longed to see winter, to feel something cold touching my skin. And so I’m here.”

“But he doesn’t know you are here?”

“He will soon enough,” I say, shifting slightly. “He will surely punish me for leaving without his consent.”

“Punish you... how?”

“He enjoys inflicting pain. He will beat me sometimes, and then leave me in isolation. He has used his fire to brand me. He has many creative methods.” I am uncomfortable thinking about it at the moment—thinking about the consequences of my behavior has never been my strong suit—and now I am slightly regretting my decision to visit.

“Konoe...” Tokino’s voice trails off. “That sounds so oppressive. And you don’t remember how you came to be with him?”

“I do not,” I say. “But I am thankful he did not consume me. I have no complaints about my treatment. He is fair, and I deserve any punishment I earn. My sole purpose is to serve my master, after all.”

“Konoe,” Tokino says again. His expression is a mix of pensive and disturbed, almost as though he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. “Ah—food. Let’s get you something to eat and something warm to drink.” 

He puts a small pot over the fire—he has set up a small contraption to hang a pot or kettle while we were talking—and fills it with something from one of his traveling bottles.

“While we wait, this is for you. They are the last fresh ones of the season.” He pushes a small purple fruit into my hands. Its feel is familiar, but I don’t know what it is.

“What is this?”

“This was your favorite when you still were from this world. Eat everything but the stone in the middle.” 

I take a bite—and it is indeed delicious—one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted. The sticky juice runs down my chin as I take another bite. The fruit has a burst sweet flavor that spreads through my mouth, which is followed by a sour aftertaste, giving it the perfect combination.

I smile. “This is divine!”

“It’s called a kuim,” Tokino says. “I would often bring extra for you as gifts when you lived in Karou.”

He watches me eat.

“A kuim," I muse. "Would you like a bite?” I ask.

“Why not?”

I take a small bite of the fruit in my mouth and turn to Tokino, pressing my lips and the fruit to his, letting the juice drip down my chest. I think my action surprises him so much that he forgets to resist. He ends up accepting the fruit, and I lick the juice dripping from his chin. This is how I was trained to feed my master, and while Tokino is not my master, he _is_ being kind to me. He deserves my best treatment.

Also, I stay right where I am after offering Tokino a bite, licking my fingers seductively. Tokino watches me nervously, and then I press my mouth against his again. 

“Thank you,” I whisper softly. “Thank you for taking care of me. I have been trained to take care of the ones who take care of me.” 

The blanket still on my shoulders, I crawl into Tokino’s lap and kiss him again, pulling my hands through his hair and feeling the fur in his ears. Those ears—so soft and silky—and that strange urge to lick them makes another appearance. What _is_ this feeling? Did I use to groom my own ears?

I also find myself wanting to touch his tail—and when I do, his fur bristles, full and plush but short, so soft in my fingers.

I invade his lips with my tongue—his fangs are smaller than mine—mine have grown longer with my transformation, I believe—but his are still quite sharp. When I stroke his tongue with my own, I feel him shifting beneath me and he starts to purr.

He is _purring_!

That is a trait that I have, left over from when I was a cat—I purr when sexually aroused or content or in severe pain. My master does not, so I have always felt just a little insecure about it. It feels very nice to hear it from another cat, however.

“Uwah—you don’t have to do this, Konoe!” Tokino protests, trying to gently push me away.

I look up in his face, eyes wide.

“You dislike my touch? Do I disgust you? Did you dislike me when you knew me before?”

“N-no—n-not at all,” he stammers sweetly.

“Then why not enjoy yourself a little?” I suggest.

“Oh, gods, Konoe... I’m not sure this is a good idea...” 

But I stand up, dropping the blanket from my body on the forest floor. I show myself to him fully, exposing my body, running my hands down my sides and hips—I know I have a beautiful shape. I am much leaner than I was, but my hips are attractive and my waist has a gentle curve that I use to my advantage. I sway my hips a little, teasingly.

“Don’t you want to lie on the blanket?” I purr, using my softest, sexiest voice.

He moves as though hypnotized.

I drop down to my knees next to him and untuck his shirt, pushing it up to expose his abdomen. Like my master, he won’t need to undress—he seems a bit shy, and I think he will be more comfortable. I lick the fur below his belly and run my tongue up his chest to his nipples, encircling them one at a time while stroking the other with my fingers. I pull them slightly, nipping just a little. 

“Konoe...” He is already breathless, so I’d better not waste too much time.

I unbutton his pants and pull out his erection—and he is dripping.

“Oh, so wet for me? You seem so shy, but you’re already this eager? Have you perhaps wanted to do this with me for a while?”

I look up at his face through dark eyelashes as I lower my mouth on him, engulfing him as much as I can. I lick him first, and then surround him with my mouth and lips, sucking, slurping, wrapping my tongue around him, and then I bob my head, swallowing as much as I can. I have been trained thoroughly on this task—Razel would use his alter, the snake—that burning red snake—in my throat—as punishment if I accidentally let one of my fangs graze him. 

“I am your master, Konoe. If you bite the hand that feeds you, you'd better be prepared to face the consequences!” I can still hear Razel's voice, normally calm and collected, near the end of its limit. I shiver slightly with that memory, but I’m thankful for the training.

Tokino seems to be enjoying it as well... almost too much.

“Not yet,” I murmur softly. “I’m not ready yet.”

“Ah—Konoe—”

I climb up onto his body, kneeling over him, and I lower myself onto him slowly, taking him inside my body carefully. He isn’t as large as Razel, who takes me without preparation—so he feels very good. Warm and alive, hot but not scalding, stretching me open just right.

“You feel so good inside me,” I whisper, and suddenly, Tokino sits up—a fire behind those blue eyes. At first, it frightens me. The fire is something I don’t recognize—it isn’t rage or anger—it looks like _passion_ , I think—I feel his hand stroking the base of my tail, which feels _so_ nice...

My master doesn’t do this for me. I didn’t even know I _liked_ it—and I let vulgar-sounding sighs and gasps drip from my mouth as I move up and down on Tokino’s lap.

His other hand comes up behind my nape, and he pulls me in close to his face. He is going to kiss me—while we are fucking face to face—it’s so strange—like he is asking me to _connect_ with him. I don’t understand, but I _like_ it, and I _enjoy_ the feeling. It feels like he is gaining more control, just by instigating a kiss.

His hips also thrust up underneath my body, and I feel a wonderful, paralyzing pleasure shoot through my body—and I cry out.

“More—right there— _please_ ,” I beg.

He obliges, kissing me again and again, massaging the base of my tail, the hand on my nape drops down to my dick—and oh, my gods—he’s _touching_ me. I’m slightly confused since my master assumes I will find my own pleasure, and Tokino is actively _searching_ for mine. I’ve never had this experience, but I gladly submit to it.

I feel myself melting away to the power of desire and pleasure—and also a strange sense of connection with this cat who is reaching out to me, and my climax is suddenly upon me.

I open my eyes wide and come with a shout—Tokino releases inside me at the same time—and his face changes, looking a little younger and even more familiar. 

While pleasure rushes through my body—from the center of my body out to my fingertips, toes, the tip of my tail, and even my nose—leaving me tingling and gasping with delight... _I remember_.

I remember running through Karou—my hometown of Karou—to find this boy waiting with a heavy pack at his feet. I remember carrying it to my house, just about crushed by its weight in exchange for three kuims. I remember laughing with him at my house, sharing the little food I had with this good friend... _Tokino_. I remember he visited me when I was sick—when I was so afraid to sleep for fear of those nightmares.

I remember the last time I saw him: his cheerful smile and the tip of his tail waving goodbye, just after he pressed his nose into my shoulder. I even remember his _scent_. I _remember_ and my chest feels like it’s being squeezed. Tears slip down my face. _He is my friend._

“Tokino,” I whisper. “You are my best friend Tokino.” 

I feel his hands on my back, hugging me close and I burst into tears. I am sobbing and crying, out of breath, and he simply holds me, wrapping the blanket around my body again, running his fingers through my hair.

“Konoe, I’ve missed you so much.”


	3. Of Angels and Demons - Konoe x Rai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate universe of Lamento - Demon Konoe (*not* the demon from Razel's ending) captures an angel as his prey. And yeah, you read that pairing right. If you don't like ukes topping, this is *not* for you.
> 
> Really OOC behavior. And yes, of course, they are still kitties.
> 
> Awfully self-indulgent and non-con smut because this is what I felt like writing. Forgive me.
> 
> Thanks to and inspired by foxyladycpz, whose Twitter I spent HOURS looking at, for this inspiration. I LOVE YOU and please keep up the wonderful inspiration! *When* are you going to do a Doujin?? :) This story is slightly switched from one of your drawings.

He is beautiful. The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

Pale skin, pale blue eyes, long white hair reaching down to his waist—and long silver fur, matching his hair—covers his long tail and ears. He even tastes good—sweet—the scent of his blood—or whatever angels have flowing beneath their skin—just out of my reach.

He has an impossibly attractive face, even with his current scowl. I’m he doesn’t like being restrained as he is, but I’d be stupid to allow him freedom, even within this small room. So I’ve knotted his body firmly with red silk rope—which I cannot seem to resist. Not against his pale coloring—it’s simply too enchanting.

Mostly, I want to groom those gigantic white wings that are easily each larger than my body. My own black wings—resembling those of a bat—do not compare to these. His are covered in feathers and currently firmly restrained, lashed to the bed the way I was trained.

They are incredibly strong. I learned that the hard way, after he struck me in the face, trying to protect himself from me. But I’ve already poisoned him—at least, given him the first bite—the venom seeping into the wound in his leg is looking promising. And it’s weakened him considerably. Enough for me to finish binding him, restraining him as I like.

“Can you feel in your wings?” Mine are covered by skin, and much smaller and more efficient than his—although he is, of course, a much larger creature than I am to begin with. Perhaps his wings need to be larger and stronger to carry his weight. I’ve never thought much about my own form—until I saw his and looked upon it with envy.

And desire. I _want_ him. And that venom should be working soon.

He has been avoiding my touch and my gaze for a while now—not allowing those perfect pale blue eyes to meet with my gaze, which is currently a golden one, glowing with desire. I know he will not be able to resist me soon, however, angel or no. I’ve never done this with an angel before—I think it may be forbidden—but I don’t care. I may be punished later, but I find him enticing in a way I cannot quite describe. 

I am waiting to touch him, just for now. I am waiting for him to humble himself and beg for my touch—beg me for release—just as so many others have done before him.

He didn’t recognize me as a demon when I set up my trap.

An angel and a demon—we should repel one another—but it was the opposite, for me at least. However, I have the feeling he felt the same attraction when he first came across me—begging him for help in my Ribika form. He couldn’t resist me—he was drawn to me as much as I was drawn to him.

I can feel it in the core of my being, as well as in other more obvious places. He could see it, too, since I've already divested myself of irksome clothing if he would look. And he _will_ look. Soon.

I spread my wings and tuck them neatly behind me, leaning against the wall while I watch him struggle. He is persistent, if not very smart.

“Haven't you realized your bonds only get tighter the more you struggle?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and gentle. “It’s almost magical—this method of tying rope. Isn’t it painful?” 

I hear a decidedly unangelic growl from him in the corner, and finally, he lifts his face. He is _perfect_. A sculpted face—like Ribika designed him herself—perfectly symmetric, a pointed chin, angled cheekbones, an elegant nose—and those piercing blue eyes.

“Oh, scary!” I say though I am slightly perturbed that he won’t talk to me. I’d like to have a conversation with him—first. This how I enjoy my prey, after all. If he won’t speak to me, how can I convince him to submit his body to me? Perhaps he needs additional venom? He is a rather large prey—the largest I have captured so far. Plus, I would very much like to taste him again.

I approach him from my space against the wall. He glares up at me—not very submissive. Does my venom not work on angels? I don’t know—but I don’t really care. I can make him submit in other ways. I smile softly—the same smile I used when he first offered me his assistance—I didn’t really need his assistance—well, I did—but I needed his _body_ , to feed on his sexual energy, which is what sustains me. 

He is nearly burning with it—that sexual energy—it boils underneath the skin I am currently running my fingers across—and I had heard angels were sexless creatures, not to be played with or even touched by the likes of me. I have been warned time and time again—but I couldn’t resist this specimen. My master must have been mistaken. He’s never met _this_ angel.

“Do you have a name?” I ask, my voice soft and gentle, just like the touch of my fingers, which are tracing his massive chest. I run my fingers between the rope and his skin, and it’s left a pale pink abrasion from his struggle. I let my fingers skate along his chest to his throat, and I draw my claws—sharp, black, dangerous—and they stand out gorgeously against his skin.

I hear a short breath—a gasp, almost—at my touch. It’s _working_. The venom is working. I take his chin in my hands and look into his face. 

“What is your name? Perhaps if you tell me I won’t bite you again,” I whisper.

“Impure.” 

“I’m sorry?” I ask. I heard what he said, but I want to keep him talking. I want to hear that voice.

“ _You_ are. Evil and impure.” The words are nearly spit at me. Perhaps it isn’t working quite as well as I’d like—just yet. He is a large creature, after all. And he tastes _so_ good—perhaps this time just a little from his neck... 

I lower my face against his throat, sticking my tongue out and licking the place I plan to bite several times over.

“Get off me!” He protests violently.

What a lovely sound, I think, brushing his hair away from his throat and neck, running my claws through it. He smells so good—warm, alive, powerful—and good. He smells so clean and pure—and surprisingly floral. 

I wish I could see his face when I bite, but I cannot. So I commit and simply sink my fangs into his throat, drawing a small, gasping cry from him. His blood—or whatever it is that flows within him—drips on my tongue—and it tastes sweet. It’s filling—and wonderful—and makes me dizzy with desire.

Venom releases from my fangs and he groans—soon he will be making less pained sounds—and even this sound was less pained than the last noise I pulled from him. I let his blood drip into my mouth, but it’s thick compared to Ribika—and I feel a sweet euphoria overcoming my body. He is baring fangs—and when I pull away, I hear another very unangelic growl come from his body.

It almost sounds like a purr. What an arousing sound! Do angels purr? No, wait—does _this_ angel purr?

“What have you done to me?” His voice, formerly harsh and laced with fury, softens now, enchanting to my ears—almost like a spell. It has an instant effect on my body, which responds by sending blood into my lower region. 

“You are so beautiful,” I murmur, still pressing my nose against his neck, basking in his strong and powerful scent. It’s changing, too—getting sweeter, a floral note like jasmine or honeysuckle perhaps, added to its sticky sweetness. It’s captivating enough to make me salivate. Everything about this creature is enchanting—it’s like he was designed to be attractive to me.

A chill runs down my spine and fluffs out my fur—yes, even a demon like me has fur covering my tail and my ears—it’s white tipped with caramel—part of my innocent disguise, actually, which works to my benefit when I attract my prey. It doesn’t exactly match the black bat-like wings I have, but I can hide them easily. They aren’t currently hidden, however—this angel knows what he’s dealing with now, and I don’t want to make the effort. I think if my wings were covered in feathers like his are, I’d have even better success at attracting victims, luring them in, asking for help. 

Honestly, he is the largest prey I’ve been able to attract so far. I didn’t know angels were so large—perhaps he is unusual or a particular type of angel. But I’m getting awfully excited—and so is he, it appears. I think I should help him out in that respect. I like it when my prey enjoys himself—it brings me even more pleasure.

I wonder if he is ready for me to loosen his restraints. He isn’t struggling quite so much, and his breathing has changed—becoming more uneven and rough. I can feel his pulse, beating in time with my own—that’s an effect of the venom in his body. It phases the rhythm of his body to sync with mine.

“Relax, now,” I whisper. “I’m not going to hurt you. That isn’t what I do.”

Not at all. I don’t hurt or damage my prey, or devour them in a physical sense, like other demons. But I _do_ ruin them—wreck them—sexually. I want to see this pure one come completely undone beneath my fingers. I’ve heard angels can’t be broken in this way. But if that's the case, why do they have the same equipment I do? And why does he smell like this—tempting, delicious, enticing? I lick my lips, running my fingers beneath the silk rope, loosening it a little.

“What have you done to me?” Those blue eyes blink at me slowly. “What _is_ this? What did you inject?”

“Are you feeling it? It should make you more comfortable and a little more pliable,” I whisper. “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Konoe. As you’ve gathered, I’m a demon, and my job is to devour pleasure— _your_ pleasure. What’s your name?”

“Rai.”

Ah. His name fits him perfectly—and the venom is indeed starting to kick in if he’s complied by telling me his name. He blinks again slowly, those long lashes coming down again softly, confusion settling in his eyes. 

“You are an enchanting creature, Rai,” I murmur, brushing his eyelashes softly with my lips. “Are all angels as beautiful as you? I’ve never met one before.”

“This contact—what you are doing to me—this is forbidden.”

“So I’ve heard,” I reply. “But don’t you feel drawn to me? Even a little bit? It certainly looks like you do. I had heard angels don’t have this… ability, and I was told to stay away from your kind. But you—your scent—it is different from what I expected. I have to try just a small taste.”

I lick his throat again, lowering my lips down to his chest, and I stimulate one of his nipples with my tongue. It responds immediately to my touch, stiffening to its highest point when I nip it carefully with my teeth. I am careful not to injure my prey… too much. I hear a soft sigh from those luscious lips above me, and it tickles my ears. His voice is captivating, and I want to hear more, so I move to his other nipple and nip it as well, glancing up at his face.

He is very pale—blood doesn’t seem to color him—though I can feel excitement filling me and blood rushing to my cheeks and ears. I blush easily—and I’m sure he notices my ears are turning pink. He is staring at my ears, in fact. It makes me look surprisingly innocent and inexperienced. 

“So… do you do this sort of… activity… where you come from?” I ask with a soft voice, raising my face to his again. His body has become quite still now. I stroke his chest and his sides, enjoying his sculpted muscles.

“What sort of activity?”

“This sort of touching,” I clarify, lowering myself to his waist. I nuzzle his navel with my nose and lips—and he smells _amazing_. I feel almost high—like I have injected myself with my own venom—it’s such a strange sensation. I dip my tongue into his belly button, watching him try to pull his abdomen away from my touch, but he is unable to move very far. I move my tongue a little lower and groom the tuft of soft silver fur just below his belly in long, soft strokes.

“Gah—what are t-touching?” he stammers—and it’s so sweet and adorable—and I wonder, might I be the first to touch him here? The thought fills me with pleasure and urgency—and the fierce need to touch him _more_. But I want to savor him.

“I’m simply preparing you,” I say. “This is how I prepare my captured prey. You should relax and enjoy it. It would please me mightily.”

He does relax a little, but I lower my mouth a little more and start teasing him—perhaps a little cruelly. He is still bound by that red rope, of course—and I should loosen his restraints at least a little—but he is so beautiful like this, his arms secured behind him, his wings helpless and immobile, unable to move or defend himself—this powerful creature at my mercy. I think I will tease him just a little first.

I plant kisses along his hip bones—smooth, white, and virginal skin—I trail my tongue after each kiss as I watch his face, which is watching me with a mix of fear and desire. Which emotion will win? I know desire will, eventually, since that is my job—and it seems to be overcoming faster than he would like, though he is fighting it desperately.

Light kisses and longer grooming licks against his hips, and then lower still, till I reach his erect member—which I admire for a moment. He is very large—and not just because his stature is so much bigger than my own—and he would probably feel really nice inside my body.

However, I think that _isn’t_ what I want to do with this fellow. No, I think _I_ will take _him_. There is a single, large drop of transparent fluid on the tip, which I kiss away—a light, teasing kiss—and that alone draws a sigh of pleasure from him. Then, I carefully lick just the tip, around the rim, light grooming licks—and this also draws some strange, sexy sounds from the giant beneath me. It’s incredibly arousing. 

I’m glad I’m naked, because I’m pretty warm and hot at this point, too. Covering my fangs with my lips, I carefully draw what I can of that massive member into my mouth and use my hands—which I’ve covered in some warmed lube that I happen to have handy for just such occasions—on the base for control. For a few strokes, I pull him in and out of my mouth, lightly, teasing, watching his face, and I realize he is quite sensitive on the front his shaft—more sensitive than the tip, it seems. So I pay special attention to that area with my tongue when I start moving my head. I also allow him to move his hips if he likes, and his hips cant forward and I hear an awfully satisfying purr. 

I’m very excited to hear that wet purr, and I taste more pre-cum dripping from the tip. He is definitely swelling inside my mouth—getting almost uncomfortably large—and I’m not ready for him to release just yet—so I slow down a little. Then, using a little more lube, I take one of my fingers away from the base and reach below his shaft and gently stroke just below his balls, then behind them, approaching his entrance. To my surprise, he actually moans in delight.

It’s a wonderful noise, and it makes me purr, which adds to the vibration in my mouth and body, and he swells even more. I slow down my movements, add more lube to my finger, and paint over the top of his entrance, just lightly.

As I expected, that gorgeous, pure white tail immediately fluffs out and comes down to protect himself. I’m sure he’s nervous.

I pull him out of my mouth, though I continue stroking with my hand firmly, and I keep my eye on him. He is lying slightly on his side, and I look up at his face. His face is a mix of desire and fear—and he glares down at me.

“What do you plan to do?” He sounds almost angry, which amuses me greatly. I can't help returning his anger with a soft, sexy smile.

“Just _relax_ your body. I promise—I will not hurt you. This is my area of expertise. Have I hurt you yet?” I run my finger across the outside of his hole again, and he shivers this time—his entire large body is at my mercy. His body _knows_  I will make him feel good. And that scent—it is released again—almost overpowering me with desire. I can hardly contain my joy.

He closes his eyes for a moment—resignation, perhaps—there’s nothing he can do to protect himself anyway—I will do what I want to him, as I like—and what I want is to push inside of him, ever so slowly and gently, careful to make sure not to hurt him. I only want to overwhelm him with pleasure, make his pure, gigantic, angelic body drip with it.

Despite his large size and my small fingers, that ring of muscle is very snug. Even if he does have some sexual experience, certainly, he has _never_ been used this way. I can tell when I wiggle my finger inside of his body. However, just past that inner ring, he opens up slightly and sighs again—a purring sigh, one of indulgence rather than pain. The base of his tail seems to relax, too, that beautiful fur remaining fluffy and erect.

After exploring his tender inner walls for a little while, I pull out, add more lube and push back inside, repeating the process with similar results—and am rewarded with another surprised gasp of indulgence. I also put my mouth back on his dick, which is very erect and dripping with excitement.

I’m now quite pleased with his willingness to participate. I’d love to loosen his restraints a little—but I wonder if he will be compliant enough for me or not. I look at the bite on his thigh—the first place I injected my venom. Only my fang marks are left there—two tiny pierced holes. I’m tempted to bite him again—mostly because I want to taste his blood—whatever that is running through him didn’t taste like blood to me—it was sweet and delicious. And I want _more_.

I move my mouth from his member, though I keep my hand stroking the base, and I push a second lubricated finger inside him. I nose that bite mark again, smelling it gently, trying to see if I can catch a whiff of his blood. I can’t, so instead, I lick the inside of his thigh several times, preparing to sink in my fangs again.

Just before I do, however, I scissor my fingers apart inside of his body, and he moans loudly—helplessly—pleasurably—and his body stiffens in surprise when he is bitten, as though the bite also causes him pleasure. It probably does, given its location and the amount of blood that is currently pooling in this area.

I’m working hard to loosen him up, and I release a little more venom inside his body, and I glance up at his face and see—of all things—a very slight pink blush dusting his cheeks, his nose, and his chest.

I smile softly, pleased.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“N-no…” he murmurs softly.

“I promised it wouldn’t. Not even the bite hurts, does it?”

“Not at all. B-but…” his voice trails off into a sigh when I press a third finger inside him and lower my mouth against his dick once more, looking up at his face. 

When I pull him out of my mouth I ask sweetly, “But what?”

“But this is wrong—I shouldn’t be doing this—I shouldn’t be doing this with you.” 

“No,” I agree. “You shouldn’t. That is why I didn’t give you a choice.” I continue stroking his insides—so soft, so warm, so pure, and so inviting. I won’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I want to be inside him _soon_. I want to take him—I want to connect with him. 

“Listen,” I whisper. “I want to be inside you. I also want to loosen your restraints. You aren’t going to try anything, are you? You’ll allow this, won’t you? You’ll behave for me, won’t you? You’re going to be good?” 

“Yes-sss…” His reply ends in a hiss when I stroke him how he likes and stretch him open at the same time. I see his toes curling against the bed.

I pull my fingers out of him slowly and move up to the rope, sliding my fingers under the knots. They are impossibly tight from his earlier struggling. I don’t want to release his arms or his wings—he could hurt me with his claws or the strength of his wings. But I loosen many of the other knots carefully, following the rope burns on his skin with my tongue. 

He has a gorgeous body—muscular, lean, perfect—his skin is so pale it’s nearly white—except now, he’s dusted with a pale pink blush—even the cheeks of his ass are slightly pink. It’s adorable.

I push him onto his stomach, keeping his wrists bound tightly in front of him and his wings restrained—flat on the bed, lashed tightly to the bed frame like I was shown and how I was restrained many, many times by my own master for training. I shiver when I think back on those times and what was done to me when I was restrained in this way—my legs were also restrained—my ankles bound and pulled apart and my wrists pulled over my head—so my master had full access to my body. He did all sorts of unspeakable things to me—and he may do so again once he finds out what I have done. I push the thought from my mind for now. I have more important things at hand.

The angel Rai seems much more comfortable now, and he is still very aroused—he has enjoyed my gentle touch, it seems, and enjoys when I stroke his wings. Those silvery white feathers are so very soft. They shiver slightly when I run my fingers across them.

“Can you feel in these feathers?” I ask.

“Not so much in the feathers themselves,” he answers, “but when you move them, I can definitely feel that.”  
  
“Are you comfortable now?” I ask. This is not something I usually ask my prey, but for some reason, I am compelled to ask him. I care about this prey—this one is special. I notice his scent is even stronger now.

He nods his head lightly, and I pull back his hips, encouraging him to lift himself up to his knees. I press myself against his entrance—using plenty of lube since again, I don’t wish to hurt him—my desire is to consume his pleasure, you see—and I start to advance inside his body.

The moment I press inside him, I am overcome with strange emotions. It’s similar to when I tasted his blood—I get a feeling of his essence—his goodness, his purity, his power and strength, his loyalty—but also something else is present, too: his _desire_. For me and my body. He _wants_ this, which comes as a complete surprise to me. He is not resisting this.

It does nothing but increase my own desire, and I start to sweat, and I see his ears twitch slightly. I hear him purring, loud and wet, and he sighs when I am fully inside of him, my thighs touching his ass, my hands gripping his hips. He feels so good, so warm—like he is surrounding me, engulfing me. I bury my nose in that silver hair, leaning forward over him—and I also feel his soft feathers against my stomach and chest.

I rock my hips forward slightly, testing his reaction, and he seems fine, purring and sighing softly. So I continue my movements and increase my pace, pulling out a little more each time, and pushing myself back in, tracking the reactions from the large body beneath me, angling myself a little differently each time, looking for something specific.

Then—I find it, while I am still moving fairly slowly—when I thrust up at a particular angle—Rai moans rather loudly and uncharacteristically, unable to contain himself. I stop for a moment—allowing him to catch his breath—and I hear him say a few words.

“What _was_ that?”

I repeat the movement and he moans again. I smile, and I murmur into his ear.

“ _That_ is what I have been searching for. Just relax your body and enjoy the sensation. This is what I do.”  
  
I can feel him coming apart—falling to pieces—little by little, with each thrust. I start slowly, working up to faster thrusts, and his hips fall toward the bed, until he is completely flat, his foot hanging off the side helplessly. His moans change into gasping sighs and desperate cries, and I—I am no better.

I am so close—and I reach around his hips with one hand and grab his dick, which his hard and dripping—and stroke firmly, paying close attention to that sensitive spot on his shaft. With my other hand, I grab the base of his tail, and I pull up firmly, digging my hands into the long, lush white fur, which is fully bristled.

I lower myself against his back and bite the tip of his ear before invading the inner depths with my tongue, allowing myself to sigh and gasp and purr directly into it—allowing him to hear my voice—so he is taken from the front, from behind, from the inside and outside. He is _all_ _mine_ —this majestic creature—this creature intended for goodness—is all _mine_ , falling apart to my touch.

I feel him clenching around my dick, and his body stiffens, and he groans—almost painfully—and then cries out when he comes—shooting thick white cum into my hand. I allow myself to come right after he does—enjoying my own pleasure after he climaxes—and I feel him pulsing around me, pleasure spilling into his body, my body stiffening, my claws drawing and my fangs baring and my wings spreading reflexively.

This climax was like nothing I have experienced before—and the aftereffects are amazing. I relax and feel a hum in my body—a voiceless song—it calls out from my heart—and I can feel something skate along my skin.

When I pull out of the angel, my skin is still vibrating with the song—and I don’t know what the sound is! What— _is_ this? A melody? It's so mysterious, but I think I am singing to the angel—to Rai. It sounds like a song of... dedication?

I lie back, exhausted on the bed, and I close my eyes for a moment, basking in pleasure and the music.

Suddenly, a gush of wind brushes my cheeks, and huge white wings flutter over me. Rai is _loose_ —he is free from his restraints—his bonds are broken—and my song is still going on and on—and I cannot stop the singing.

He is pinning me down on the bed now, hovering over my much smaller body—and I am so exhausted from my pleasure (and from consuming his), almost drunk with it—I cannot move or fight him off. I find I don’t even want to.

He lowers his mouth to mine and takes my lips roughly—almost like he owns me. I feel him nipping my lower lip, biting me.

Isn’t he exhausted, too? I open my eyes fully and find pale blue eyes staring back at me, and a soft, sexy smile on his face. What is he doing?

The restraints from his wrists are gone, too—did I not tie him tightly enough? How could he have broken the bonds?

“You are singing,” Rai whispers against my mouth. “True demons do not have that gift.”

“It has never happened before,” I say honestly.

“It is a heavenly gift—a sign that you have been chosen.”  
  
“Chosen?” I ask. “Chosen for what?” 

“Chosen for me. You have a new master, little one.” He strokes my cheek gently. “You work for _me_ , now.”

I feel a soft, prickling sensation on my wings—as he runs his hands across them—and then a slight burning sensation—like my wings are being singed by flame. What is this?  
  
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Stop—stop this!" 

“I am saving you,” Rai whispers, continuing to touch my wings. In fact, he flips my body over roughly, brushing my wings from my shoulder blades to the tips. I flap desperately to try to escape—it's painful—and I realize that they _sound_ different. They sound… soft. What is happening to me?  
  
I reach out my fingers, stretch out my wings to touch the tips—and I see my wings are covered in pure white feathers. What _is_ this?  
  
“You work for me now.” Rai chuckles softly. “And as fun as that was, that’s the _last_ time that will happen in a while. At least… you’ve shown me what to do.”

I can barely move, but my body is held down, and I feel his hands gently stroking my ass—massaging me—stroking my tail, and then dangerously spreading my cheeks. My eyes widen in fear and in sudden comprehension.

“What—what is this? What are you doing?”

“I’m claiming you—as my servant. You will submit,” Rai murmurs.

I find I cannot move a muscle when he says those words. I cannot move my body. But didn't he just come? How can he do this again so soon?

“I think you will find me a kind master, as long as you obey.” I feel his fingers stroking me gently. Oh gods, does he know about the lube? Please—don’t forget! 

“Rai… please…” I beg.

“You didn’t give me a choice, after all,” Rai points out gently. “However, you didn’t hurt me, so I won’t hurt you, either—at least, not intentionally. There is, however, our difference in stature. And… the fact I haven’t had a servant such as you before. So I apologize if there is a slight learning curve…”

“Ah—wait—the lube! Don't forget to use it!” I plead, filled with fright.

“The _what_?” Rai asks, only slightly concerned, and I feel something warm licking me, right where my thighs and ass meet.

I squeeze my eyes shut and realize that _this_ is why I was forbidden to have contact with angels. And my upcoming punishment is probably well-deserved. However, I realize my new master is pure and good and is much more kind-hearted than my last one. I can probably learn to work with him...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for that bit of indulgence--but so not sorry. It was terribly fun to write! :) Thanks for reading!


	4. The Yokai in the Woods - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers—I’m still here, yes, back after a bad week. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> This work is inspired partly by Natsume’s Book of Friends, which is one of those shows I watch and then ask, why the hell am I watching this, as I cry my eyes out!
> 
> Yeah, a little dub con, to start, because I have to do things that way.

At first, I didn’t believe the rumors about the yokai living in the woods until I saw him with my own eyes. And once I saw him, he saw that I made eye contact—he saw that I could see _him_. 

I’ve heard it’s unusual for the living to be able to see yokai—spirits and the living may share the same space, but our worlds don’t connect very often. It’s possible it has to do with my blood—my father was a famous Sanga, and I too produced my song for the first time a few weeks ago—and this yokai, well, it’s obvious he is a Touga. 

He’s from another time. He’s dressed in a dark blue kimono tied with a black obi, carrying a long katana and wearing a short dagger—and we don’t dress that way anymore. He has silver hair down to his waist even pulled up in a ponytail, and long fur covering his tail and ears, which look slightly too small and are strangely rounded—and very pale skin. He is missing an eye, which is covered with an eyepatch, but the other is an icy blue, set off gorgeously by that kimono. 

But what made me realize he wasn’t a living person was his size. No cat around here is actually that height anymore—he is just too big—tall and muscular—and much taller than me. And the way he moves is not like a living person—his movements are too smooth and almost hypnotic like he is performing a dance.

The first time I saw him I ran away, and I didn’t show my face in that area of the woods again for a week. His huge body moving silently in the woods, running through the forms with both that long katana and his dagger scared me half to death—for as large as he is, he moves so quietly, like his feet don’t touch the ground, and perhaps they don’t. Some yokai do not walk as we do, but it seems his sandals sometimes rustled the fallen blossoms on the ground. I didn’t stick around long enough to look very carefully—I just ran, hoping never to encounter him again, even as enchanting as he seemed. However, I have to head back through this same forest after training. It is dusk on a spring evening, a little chilly, and I am sure I glimpse his large stature swinging that slim katana around silently again. 

I try not to look in his direction—I hear if yokai don’t know you can see them they will ignore you, but he definitely catches me looking again. I see his pale blue eye sparkling in the low light, and it strikes an icy fear in my heart when it meets my gaze. I’m a cat and of course, my eye is drawn by movement. And this time, even though he looks scary, something like desperate loneliness appears on his face when he sees me trying to turn away. 

Can yokai even look lonely? Do they _feel_ lonely? 

However, I am not brave enough to find out, and I try to escape again. But this time—I hear a sharp metallic whistling sound right next to my ear, and the hood of my cape is suddenly nailed to the tree behind me with a dagger—which turns out to be nearly as big as the sword I am carrying. My fur bristles in surprise, but I am frozen in fear when I hear soft footsteps approaching. 

It turns out his feet do, in fact, touch the ground. I didn’t know that yokai could interact with the physical world I live in—but his dagger is definitely trapping my cape, so I am unable to move. 

“You can see me, can’t you?” His voice is surprisingly low and gentle—almost a purr. And it drips inside my ears like honey when I hear it, ruffling up my fur. He has a kind voice, but currently sharper than I would prefer. And I don’t feel like he should be speaking to me. Yokai should _never_ speak to the living. 

My voice is nowhere to be found—especially the closer he approaches. I’ve never seen another spirit, so why can I see him? And _why_ was I so stupid to let him know I could see him?

My next mistake is trying to dislodge the dagger from the trunk of the tree so I can free myself. If I’d thought about it more carefully, I would have tried simply pulling my cape, ignoring the dagger, perhaps letting him believe I couldn’t see it. But now, he sees that I’m touching the hilt of the dagger, pulling with all my might. I can’t believe how hard he was able to throw that thing. He has some real power—and I think it came from his left hand, not his right. He’s holding that giant katana in his right hand. 

“Answer me, kitten,” his voice softens as it gets closer—but he is so much bigger than me I don’t know what to do. 

If I don’t answer won’t he assume I can’t hear him? Except— 

“I know you can hear me. Your ears are twitching.” 

Flattening my ears against my skull, a small burst of anger rushes through my body and I glare up at his face. He is very close—and I feel a soft touch on the tip of my left ear—his hands are cold. And a shiver runs through my body, making that burst of rage dissipate. 

“And I can see the fire in your eyes. Are you a priest?” The base of my ears are rubbed with chilly fingertips, and I feel his claws extend, but they don’t hurt me. It almost feels good.

‘N-no,” I stammer. “P-Please don’t hurt me.” 

“In all these centuries, few living creatures have ever seen me. When you walked through the woods seven moon cycles ago, I thought you saw me then as well.” His hand continues stroking my ears. “Why did you run?” 

“Because you’re terrifying!” I burst out suddenly. And then, I hear a delightful sound that tickles my ears.

The giant yokai—the silver cat—is _laughing_. 

The sound of his laughter rings out in the woods, and it hits a chord deep in my soul—making me feel somehow satisfied and calm—hypnotized like I was when I was watching his calm movements. The sound is beautiful. 

When he finally stops, he looks at me and says, “You are a Sanga, aren’t you?” 

Again, my fur bristles. 

“How did you know?”

“Your voice—it resounds in my soul. I can tell by the sound of your voice. Have you paired with a Touga already?” 

“I—I’m still in training. I just produced my first song last week,” I say, confused as to why I am answering. Why am I having this conversation? 

“I see. You do look young.” 

I bristle again.

“I’m of age. Please take away your dagger,” I say, gesturing to my cape.

“Won’t you run?” he asks softly. “If I pull my dagger out, won’t you run?” His tone is soft and he sounds lonely and sad—like he doesn’t want me to leave.

“I-I need to get home,” I say. 

“Why? Are you hungry? Come with me.” 

He pulls out the dagger with ease, much to my surprise, and grabs my arm. Then, he leads me through the forest.

“W-wait! Where are you taking me?”

“I am a Touga. I know how to care for your kind,” he says softly, not looking back or down at me. “You must eat a healthy, warm meal to grow your talent, just like a Touga must. You become exhausted after singing just one song, do you not?” 

“Well, yes,” I say, trying not to trip over the roots he seems to know so well. We are headed off the main path, deep into the woods. I’ve never traveled here, and I’m terrible with directions. I have no idea where we are within only a few moments, and I’m hopelessly lost—plus, the sun is going down. I really have no choice but to follow him now. “Where are you taking me?”

“To my place.” 

We wander deep into the forest—nearly half an hour at a brisk pace for me, though he is courteously slowing his stride for my sake. My legs are much shorter than his, so he takes his time. 

We come across a cabin—an old one, but very well maintained, including a lovely garden out front, wrapping around the side of the house. When he enters, he slips off his shoes, so I pull off my boots, while he waits for me to do so. The inside is set up with paper walls and sliding doors, and it’s much larger than it appears on the outside.

“What is this place?” 

“Welcome to my home. It’s been a long time since I’ve had guests.” He hangs his katana and dagger by the door—they have a special place, it seems, and they are very well cared for. I leave my sword hesitantly—I don’t know this yokai, but he could hurt me, however, it appears he means me no harm. He waits for me to leave my items at the door. “Come in.” 

He leads me to a sitting area—and indeed, the place is enchanting. It’s comfortable, peaceful, almost zen-like, with cushions on the floor, and a stove in the corner, which is lit to keep things warm. I don’t like fire, but the stove is nice since the fire is hidden from sight and still warms the room. I sit in silence for a while, watching as he places a teapot on the stove.

It smells great in here—probably from whatever has been simmering on the stove all day. It smells hearty and delicious—like soup or stew. He disappears for a moment, bringing back some fruit and bread from the kitchen. 

“You have no one to care for you,” the yokai says as he makes the tea. 

“I’m fine,” I say, looking down at my hands. I’m sitting on the floor, with my hands wrapped around my knees. 

“Come to the table,” he replies, meeting my gaze. “I will be the one to care for you. Have some.”

The yokai offers me tea to drink and then serves me the stew from the pot on the stove. There isn’t anything strange about the stew or the tea—it looks like normal food, and at this point, it would be rude to refuse, so I just drink and eat. 

The tea has a lovely bouquet—floral and light, unlike anything I have had before. I wonder if he grows the leaves himself. Other living things probably can’t see him, I’d guess, so where can he shop for supplies? The stew is rich and hearty, with freshly grown seasonal vegetables (I saw a garden in the yard when I came inside) as well as delicious, if slightly gamey, fowl of some kind. There is a smattering of herbs and spices that I don’t recognize, but it seems he has experience cooking that even I don’t have. Even the bread tastes like it’s been freshly made—could he have made it with his own hands? 

He eats as well, and I notice that he eats the same way in which I saw him use his sword—with unusual grace and elegance—every motion practiced, hardly making a sound. Even when bringing the cup of tea to his lips to drink, he simply radiates elegance. I could never be like that. I feel slightly out of place here.

“Who _are_ you?” I finally ask, realizing my question is slightly out of place and probably more than a little rude. “And what do you want with me?”

“My name is Rai. What is yours?” His voice is still amazingly gentle and soft, as is that blue eye. He is watching me carefully, watching as I eat and drink what he has set in front of me. 

“I’m Konoe.” I wait patiently, looking at him without speaking, continuing to eat my meal.

“I’ve been here for many years, practicing my art, waiting for someone like you to find me.”

“Someone like me?”

“A Sanga with your spiritual power.”

“My spiritual power?”

“Yes. So you can see me.” 

“Because you are a yokai?” I ask directly.

“Yes.” 

“So not all Sangas can see you?” I ask. 

“No. I have seen others, and others have seen me, but they haven’t drawn my attention like you have.”

“Drawn your attention?” I am slightly worried now. 

“You are as yet unpaired?”

“As of yet.” 

“Have you ever sung for a Touga?”

“No, I have not.” But how does he know this?

“You are waiting for the right Touga, someone worth that power you have simmering beneath your skin. I can see it. I saw it the first day you wandered into my training grounds and tried to run from me. You couldn’t hide it from me. You want someone who can use it, someone worthy, and someone who can protect you. I think you are waiting for _me_.” 

I am speechless. First—he can _see_ my power? Second—he saw it the very first day he saw me? So would he have pursued me, come after me, if I hadn’t come back this way? Third—he considers himself worthy of this power? Isn’t that slightly… well, I don’t know. It seems awfully confident. Fourth, I _do_ long to sing for _someone_ , and someone with whom I can form a bond, but I’m not really looking for someone to protect me. I can protect myself. 

Besides, he is a yokai—and others—those among the living—wouldn’t see him, would they? If I sang for him, what good would it do? I don’t know what to say.

He sits and watches me for a moment as well, as though he is waiting for me to say something, then he speaks again.

“I’d like to hear you sing.”

“For you?” 

“For me.” 

“Why?” 

“In exchange for my care of you—and because I like the sound of your voice. I’d like to hear more of it. I’ve been waiting many years to hear a voice such as yours.” I feel slightly obligated, now that I’ve been fed such a good meal. And he flatters me. But I still hesitate. 

“But—for what purpose? I mean, can others see you?”

“Not as of this moment. I believe they _will_ , if you sing for me. I will become part of the living world once more.”

I stop for a moment. He was _once_ part of the living world? Then—will I be bringing him back to the world if I sing for him? Is that allowed? Isn’t that _forbidden_? 

“Please. Just one song. It doesn’t even have to be a song intended for battle.” 

“Wait—a song not intended for battle?” I’ve never sung a song not intended for battle. I don’t know if I can even _do_ that. “I don’t know how to do that!”

“I will help you.” He says softly, rising from his place across from me and walking to where I am sitting, taking a seat next to me. “Close your eyes for a moment.”

I am afraid of this yokai—I really am—but when he sits so close, I feel a desperate need to connect from him, oozing from his body. It doesn’t negate my fear of him, however, and my body is still trembling—in fact, I tremble even more when he is close to me. 

“Wait—don’t you eat my kind?” 

He smiles, showing me his fangs—they are long and sharp, glistening like pearls—much larger than my own. They are very beautiful—captivating. Have I ever thought another cat’s fangs were beautiful before? However, those, along with his size, are still frightening.

“If it were my intention to eat you, don’t you think I would have done that already? Would I have bothered to share my food with you?” He is sitting down next to me, close enough to touch me. He smells good—like _weirdly_ good—like flowers of some kind—fresh flowers right after a summer rain.

My eyes widen slightly. I suppose he is right. 

“Why would I have brought you here, to my home, and fed you, given you care—only to eat you?”

“B-but I’ve n-never sung outside of a battle song before,” I whimper softly, unable to keep the fear from my voice.

“Relax,” he whispers. There’s something soothing about his voice—captivating and hypnotizing. “Relax and close your eyes. Can you do that?”

“I am afraid—” but I’m interrupted. 

“Of me? Silly kitten. However, I have a solution.” He stands up and leaves the room, returning in a moment with a silk sash. I look at it for a moment—it’s a dark color, black or navy blue, probably intended to help fasten his kimono. But faster than I can process, he uses it to cover my eyes as a blindfold, and I reach up when my vision is blocked, touching the soft silk over my eyes. My fur bristles and I feel him tying it gently behind my head. His voice sounds again in my ears—much closer than I expect and making me bristle. “Don’t remove it.” 

“What—what’s this? What are you doing?” This is not helping me! 

“Just relax,” he repeats, whispering softly in my ear, and then I feel both hands on my body—stroking down from my shoulders to my fingertips. “Calm down. I’m showing you how to sing a song not intended for battle. That’s all. Now, I want you to just experience the sensation—the touch of my fingers—on your skin.” 

The touch of his fingers on my skin? Right now, I simply feel his hands over the sleeves of my shirt, and I start to protest—and then suddenly, one of his hands slips under the front of my shirt, on my belly. It’s much cooler than I expect. I curve my abdomen in, but that doesn’t help me escape, since he sweeps his hand up quickly along my stomach, underneath the fabric, and up my chest. A strange voice comes out of my mouth, and he pulls me a little closer to where he is sitting on the floor behind me. I must be nearly in his lap. 

“Relax your body and experience the touch.” 

I can’t relax, of course—I’ve never been touched like this in my life, and my body stiffens all at once, pulling away, or trying to pull away from him, but he ignores my feeble attempt and pulls me closer. 

“You’re acting as though no one has touched you in this way before. Relax, little Sanga.” 

“No one _has_ touched me like this before!” I sputter, indignant. And I hear a strange sound directly in my ear. It sounds strangely like muffled laughter. It is not cruel laughter, but it starts as honest chuckling at first, which Rai tries to suppress but is unable to. And then it starts to build, and since both his hands are occupied—one under my shirt and the other holding me in place on his lap, he can’t cover his mouth. 

Instead, he lowers his mouth to my shoulder, and the laughter tickles my skin at my neck—even through the fabric of my shirt. It’s a beautiful sound, and it shimmies across my skin, sending goosebumps in its wake. But he cannot help himself, it seems. 

I would normally be quite insulted, but I’m so captivated by its sound and the soft ticklish sensation of his breath that I forget my indignation, and I remain quiet, listening with pleasure at its resonance. It seems to strike a chord inside me—it’s really pretty, like the sound of his voice did when I first heard it. I wonder if it’s meant to enchant. It’s just a little frightening, in fact.

“I apologize, little Sanga. I assumed someone as pretty as you would have had many suitors already,” he murmurs into my ear—and then, he licks me—my ear—directly, sending shivers down my back and spine and into my tail, making my fur fluff out. Another strange sound comes out of my mouth in response, and I’m embarrassed by it. What is this? “Have the times changed so much? You may be innocent, but you do not make the sounds of an innocent.” 

“What is that supposed to mean? I can’t help it!” I’m ashamed of both my lack of experience and the sounds he is pulling from me.

“I did not say the sounds were bad,” he whispers. “In fact, I quite like them, and they will help with your song. Take those feelings—what you are feeling right now—and look deep within your soul and see if you can find a song to describe these feelings, hmm?” 

I do feel something blooming in my chest when he suggests I look—it’s strange—did he put it there or has it always been there? I don’t know. But once I find the thread of a melody, I grab hold of it and my body starts to vibrate. I feel it in my bones, just like my battle song, first—then my flesh and muscles, and finally even my skin, hair and fur start to shiver, and I can hear the song out loud, ringing clearly in my ears as well as my mind. 

It’s startlingly loud—much clearer than my battle song—and much different, too. It makes my ears hot and twitchy, my tail fluffy, and blood rush to my lower half. I feel lewd when I hear the melody, and I’m not sure why. It feels helpless, almost, like I am not in control of myself or my body, very unlike the songs I use for battle, and that makes my body heat up even more. 

Apparently it has a similar effect on the yokai sitting behind me, because he hums in my ear, a sensuous sound, and he pulls me even closer, and he presses his hand on my groin over my clothes while allowing his tongue to enter my ear—it’s the most intimate thing that has ever been done to me—while keeping the other hand pressed against my stomach, stroking the fur just below my belly, and I gasp out loud, unable to contain my pleasure at being so suddenly touched this way. 

Is this what he was trying to get me to do? It feels like a physical and emotional connection—and I can feel his mind reaching out to me, saying, ”let me touch you, let me caress you, let me connect with you, I want to make you feel good.” 

It frightens me and thrills me in equal parts, and I don’t know how much more I can take. 

But I’m currently rather hypnotized—and I cannot stop singing, nor can I get out of my place in his lap—and what am I even doing here? How will I get home? Surely, it’s dark outside now! 

 _”Stay_ with me. Stay _here_ with me.”  

I hear his voice, clear as day, echoing in my head—why? When it’s my song, pealing out in the small room? Why do I hear his voice?

The touch of his tongue, rough and wet, diving deep inside my ear, going deeper each time, squishing around loudly, sends shivers down my back and fluffing up my tail. His hand moves from my belly to the base of my tail, and the hand over my groin moves to the waistband of my pants and to my belt, and I hear a clinking sound. 

A nervous-sounding sigh leaks from my lips—I want to be touched more—I’m aching with desire, shivering with pleasure, a magical feeling covering my body, but also shaking and trembling with anxiety for having these feelings.

“W-wait—” I beg softly, and the hand at my waist stops, but the hand at the base of my tail most surely does not. It continues massaging me, making the fur ripple up and down its length luxuriously, and me not knowing what to do with myself. 

“What’s wrong, little Sanga? Do you dislike the feeling? Let me make you feel even more...” and my neck is scattered with surprisingly tender kisses, despite the feeling of a slight sensation of fangs against my skin—it’s a sensual feeling. How can he be so gentle, yet still allow his fangs to touch like that? And my lack of vision is making things even more intense, and my heightened response seems to be changing my song, making it more intense and strange, stronger and more intimate.

“N-no, I-I do l-like it,” I breathe.

“Then let me touch you. _Please_ , let me touch you. It’s been so long since I could touch another person.” 

When the words are spoken aloud, my song changes—giving him permission without words, and my shirt is pulled off over my head. I lose my orientation for a moment and I find myself on my back, pressed against a pillow on the floor with the huge silver cat above me. I can feel his straight, long silver hair in my fingers. I pull my claws through the strands, and I can almost see them sparkling, even through the blindfold.

He smells so good—like I’m lying in a field of wildflowers or in a flower garden in full bloom—and I’m captivated—enchanted—without any hope of turning back at this point. For a brief moment I wonder if there was something in the food he served me—perhaps the living shouldn’t partake in food made by yokai? Maybe it makes us susceptible to them or more easily captured. But it’s too late for that now, I think, as he captures my lips in his—and my bottom lip is sucked into his and lightly bitten. 

“Tch,” I hiss, just in time for my top lip to suffer the same treatment. It doesn’t really hurt—in fact, the nip only serves to heighten the sensation below my waist and heats up my song.

“Your voice is beautiful, young Sanga,” he whispers softly, running a hand through the fur in my ears. “I’ve waited over a century to hear a song like yours.”

I’m surprised at how little I can do in response to his touch and his treatment of me—I am mostly simply _allowing_ him to touch me, and my hands and arm cling desperately to his shoulders in response. 

A gasp and another moan escape my lips unintentionally when I feel a sensual wet feeling surrounding my nipple—and then a sharp nip. Those fangs—they are marking me! And an exaggerated shiver runs through my body at the thought of this gorgeous cat or spirit or whatever he is marking up my body, claiming me. My voice gets louder as his mouth moves lower, and he licks the fur below my belly, and he grabs the buckle of my pants and I feel my belt removed.

My mind is hazy with desire, and I vaguely am aware of his actions, and I would normally never allow another cat to do something like this to me—especially not someone I just met. But he is murmuring sweet things to me—telling me I am beautiful, telling me how he longs to hear my voice, telling me he longs to touch me—and I can’t help but submit to his touch. No—it’s not that I _submit_. It’s that I _encourage_ it. I _want_ it.

When he pulls off my pants, I gasp again when cool air hits my bare legs—and his voice sounds again. 

“You are so beautiful—so pure—I have waited so long for you.” 

And then, I feel his touch stop, much to my disappointment. And his fingers reach up to the back of my head and remove the blindfold, and my song as still not stopped, though it quiets slightly. 

When I open my eyes, my vision is filled with a smattering of silver and pale white fur—an ice blue eye looks down into mine. It’s heated, filled with passion and desire. Why? Does he know me? I feel like I know him—like we have met before? 

“I want to make love to you.” His voice is serious, low, quiet. “Will you allow it? I know you are a small breed, and I am… not. If you have never done this before, it might be frightening, but I will make it pleasant for you. I want your consent.”

He is asking? He didn’t really need to ask, did he?  
  
“You are asking me?” I whisper. “Couldn’t you do anything to me you wanted? Haven’t you enchanted me?” 

His plush lips curve up at the corners slightly, and he looks so warm when he smiles. 

“I think you’ve got it backward, young Sanga. I believe you’ve enchanted me. And yes, I could force you, but I wouldn’t want to. If you are frightened, I will stop. But I could make you feel very, very good. I could deepen our connection if you like. I would like to see you come undone with pleasure.” 

“Undone with…?” I can’t echo what he’s said, and my fur bristles out again at the thought of being undone with pleasure. “Please. I want… that.” 

“You aren’t afraid?” His voice is husky and low, and he brushes my hair from my face. 

“I am, a little. But I feel like I know you.”

“Silly kitten. Don’t you know better than to trust a strange yokai you just met in the woods?” Rai stands up, gathering me in his arms, and carries me into the other room. In the other room, there is a large—huge, to me—futon laid out on the floor, made up with white sheets and a silver bedspread, pulled down, which I am set down on, as though I am something precious. He intends to keep the blindfold off, I suppose—which I find slightly intimidating. I wrap my arms around my knees.

There are two lanterns that light the otherwise quite bare space, though I see closets on the wall, so I suppose there is storage space in there. I happened to glimpse a small jar on the floor next to the bed, and my eyes rest on it for a moment before I glance back up at him, questioningly.

“You are an innocent, are you? I don’t dislike it—though you inflame me when you look at me like that.” His lips suddenly collide with mine, and I feel his hand in the back of my hair, sliding down my nape. I can’t keep my hands where they are, wrapped around my own body, and instead I reach up behind his neck, looping them around him gently, and I am gently lowered to the bed. His other hand strokes down the length of my body, toying gently with the waistband of my underwear, pushing it off my hips. 

The idea of being nude in front of such a creature suddenly makes me very self-conscious—especially when I can see everything that is happening—and I get very nervous.

“Wait—” I protest, but I am interrupted and distracted by another kiss.

“Wait—” I try again, and this time, he pulls away, looking down at me with that blazing slate blue eye, a slight smile on his face.

“What is it?” 

“I-I don’t want to be the only one,” I whisper. “You, too.” I reach up and clumsily pull at his obi, trying to untie it with my hands, realizing I’ve drawn claws unintentionally. His eyebrows raise, and he looks delighted. He watches me for a few moments, allowing me to struggle until I untie it myself.

It falls to the floor with a whispering sound—only expensive silk could make that sound, I think—I don’t own anything so fine—and his kimono falls open. His chest is so much broader than I expect, so muscular, and so perfect. Beneath—he is nude except for a fundoshi in the same pale color as his skin. I allow my fingers to run across his skin, and I hear a soft sigh from him when I touch him. It startles me—I’m not sure why. He’s a living creature, isn’t he? Yokai are living creatures, right? He is not a statue—he feels very real to me. I can feel him breathing, and I hear his heartbeat under the skin. And he feels familiar. 

“Your fingers are so soft and gentle.” 

And then, my underwear is pulled roughly from my hips, and I startle, fluffing out all my fur and growling softly. 

“Ah—a growl? How sweet.” He smiles down at me and kisses the tips of my fangs which I’ve accidentally bared. I couldn’t help it!

“I’m s-sorry—” I start.

“Don’t be. It’s adorable. You are adorable,” and he starts kissing me more, but his hands reach for the side of the bed. “I will prepare you now.”  
  
I stare up at him nervously, as I watch him scoop something out of that jar on one of his fingers, and his hand disappears behind my back. The other hand gets a little slick from the jar as well, and that hand—well, _that_ hand distracts me from what the first hand is doing, because it wraps around my dick in such a pleasurable, sensual way that I can’t help the sounds that leak out of my mouth. It feels so amazing that tears seep from my eyes. 

But then, I realize what he is preparing me for, and I stiffen slightly. 

“Don’t tighten up—just relax. I haven’t hurt you yet, have I? I will be gentle with you.” A finger paints over my entrance just below my tail and a lewd-sounding noise is pulled from my mouth, much to my shock. What was that, just now? Why did I make that noise?

“Wh-what is wrong with me? What have you d-done to me?” 

“Mmm. Nothing. It’s just you’ve been waiting for me, I think. Haven’t you, sweet kitten? Just give yourself to me.” 

My heart makes a strange leap in my chest when he brushes over me again, and I make the same yearning sound, this time adding a slight mewling noise afterward.

To my utter surprise, I arch my back and lift up my tail, moaning slightly, as though offering my body to him—offering this part that no one has ever touched, nor have I imagined ever being touched here—but just with that slight stimulation, I want more.

“Please,” I whisper, tears burning in the corners of my eyes. I can feel myself getting harder and leaking, even more, his hand wrapping around me starting to move, and it’s driving me a little crazy. “Please—don’t tease me—I can’t—I can’t stand it…” 

“I’m not teasing you, little Sanga,” his husky voice replies, and his finger circles my entrance again, painting the outer edges with that weird cool stuff. I lift my tail even higher, and it fluffs out, and I break out in a shiver and goosebumps. I want his finger inside me—I realize it suddenly—and the feeling terrifies me. I realize what he is going to do, _why_ he is preparing me, and _exactly_ what he is preparing me for. But I _want_ this.

“Please!” I cry, unsure what I am begging for.

His finger finally presses inside my body, gently, slowly—and an indulgent sensation spreads from right beneath my tail to the base of my spine, and I begin to purr and pant. I want more instantly. I don’t feel like my body is my own—it must have been something he fed me—something in the food? Catnip? Is that what this was?  
  
“Wh-what is wrong with my body? What is wrong with me?”  
  
“Nothing—there’s nothing wrong with you,” Rai replies, dropping a soft kiss on my nose, and then my chin, then each of my cheeks, then each eyelid, making me blink. The kisses feel so strangely chaste, especially considering what his hands are doing to me right now. I reach up around his neck and pull him in closer and kiss his mouth, invading his mouth with my tongue this time, exploring those sharp fangs, stroking his tongue—it even feels rough against my own—and enjoying the sound of his low purr, which is resonating with mine and with the melody still coming from my body. 

I may exhaust myself soon, I realize, if I do not stop singing. I have never sung this long before, but I don’t care.

“Don’t make me wait,” I whisper, and he adds a second finger, which slides in easily—my body accepts it like it’s meant to be there. When he scissors his fingers apart inside me, stretching me open, a wave of pleasure like I have never felt surges through my waist and hips, making me sigh and moan.

He is still working the front of my body as well, and I love the feeling, but each time I start to peak, he eases me off a little more. And the next time I get close to my peak, I feel him add a third finger inside me, pushing around, exploring my flesh. It’s a strange sensation. I keep my eyes open when I can—sometimes I have to close them on reflex—when a wave a sensation that is too powerful goes through my body, for example. But I am watching his facial expression and he is watching mine.

I feel like I am being prepared, for sure—but I feel like he is simply watching me. I wonder if this feels good for him, too. I want him to feel good, too. I want to ask—and I see his funny little ears twitch on the top of his head, and then he leans back and withdraws from my body altogether, making me experience a sense of loss. 

“I think you are ready,” he whispers, and without making me wait any longer, he pushes my thighs apart and hooks his arms beneath my knees. Then, I am dragged closer to him on the bed as he kneels up, and I feel something much larger than his fingers suddenly pressed at my entrance. “Breathe in deeply now, and I will help you—this shouldn’t hurt you.”

I obey, taking a deep breath in, and I am suddenly kissed, as his large form bends over me, and his lips meet mine. I feel his breath in my mouth, flowing into my lungs, and I feel something strange, something that makes me slightly light-headed and numb—filing up my mind and my head. It feels almost like I am drugged for a moment.

And then—I feel him pushing inside me. It’s a feeling like nothing I’ve felt before—different from fingers—and he growls as he advances. It’s a frightening sensation, and I try not to stiffen my body in fear—I can’t actually stiffen my body in fear, in fact, since he has done that breathing thing to me. I can’t resist him. 

He tastes good, he feels good, he smells good, he sounds irresistible. A small sound drops form my lips that I haven’t made since I was a small kitten—a meowing sound—it’s helpless and submissive—and my song changes again. It’s become something else entirely. The song now seems to say, ”take me and make me yours. Claim me, I am yours.”

What is happening to me? What has he done to me?

Even his growling tickles my ears and makes me feel hot and heavy—and I claw his hair helplessly, wanting to feel more of him, wanting to be filled, wanting _more_ of him. I want to connect—but are these _my_ feelings? Are these _his_ emotions? A desperate sense of loneliness washes over me, and I don’t recognize it—I’ve been alone for years, waiting for this kind of connection—and now, here we are, finally—together at last. I never want to leave.

I don’t feel any pain, though I can feel him stretching me to or past my limits—I don’t know how this is working, since he is indeed much larger in stature than I am—but it must be what he did when he breathed into my lungs—and he does it again when he kisses me, running his hands through my hair, and he pulls my tail lightly at the base, and I make that pitiful mewling noise again. 

“You are beautiful, precious little Sanga,” he whispers. He is now advanced inside me completely, I think, because I can feel his thighs resting on the outside of my ass, and he releases my knees, pressing them up against my chest. I am breathing hard, and he kisses me again, stroking my body gently. “Are you all right? Does it hurt?” 

“N-no,” I say—and then a surprised sound comes out as he rocks his hips. What is this? What kind of connection is this? I mean—I know what sex is, sure—but sex between a Touga and Sanga—is it always like this?  
  
“It’s not always like this—only if they are meant to be and if they are soul mates—this can happen,” he whispers, licking my ear.

Did he just read my mind?

“I did—or your song. You are singing your thoughts out loud. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” 

I blush, and he kisses my ears again and starts rocking his hips, gently at first, sending a shivering sensation up my spine into my shoulders. Then—he starts thrusting—which feels even more intense—but he changes movement slightly each time. And at one point, I feel something different—so intense I lose my ability to breathe or even think.

It feels like the world has dropped out from underneath me—the only two people left are him and me—and this amazing, unbelievable, undeniable pleasure.

“Oh, gods—” 

Tears stream down my face, and he looks up at me for a moment. And then—he repeats the same movement, and I scream in pleasure.

“Oh, gods—wait—”

But he does not wait. He continues his movement, faster and faster, and then he grabs my tail with one hand, to keep my hips in place, with the added effect of brushing the fur backward right at the base. His other hand searches out my dick, which, as soon as he grasps it, I straighten my spine and stiffen slightly, nearly screaming again.

“Please—oh _please_ —” 

“Do you want me to stop, little Sanga? I rather like you like this,” he murmurs. “Just give yourself over to me, Konoe. Let me see you give yourself to me.”

And I do—I relax—and enjoy the sensations, and I lean up, stretching out my neck as long as I can, reaching up to pull Rai closer to me—and kiss him—and then… my body releases. I climax. I think I accidentally bite Rai’s bottom lip when I come—and an unearthly sound comes out of my mouth when I release—purring, sighing, gasping, moaning—all mixed with my song. Bright white light blanches out my vision—or is that my eyes are buried in his hair and fur? I can feel pleasure spilling out from my waist into the rest of my limbs, tingling to the tip of my tail, the tips of my ears, my fingers, and toes. I’m slightly ashamed of all the vulgar sounds I’m making. 

But his noise is no better—and it’s so amazingly sexy, making the fur all over my body stand up and ruffle. I feel him spill inside me, hot and liquid, and he groans softly, purring into the side of my neck, making me shiver. He licks my neck gently, slowly, sending ticklish pleasure up and down my body as my melody fades. 

My body starts to feel very heavy, and it starts to relax and collapse against his body and the bed—helpless and powerless. He seems to expect this and releases my arms around his neck, gently lowering one after the other onto the futon, kissing each finger on my hand as he does so with such heart-breaking tenderness that it brings tears to my eyes.

The only parts of my body that still can move are my ears, which twitch nervously and my tail, which is still waving around rather wantonly. It is easily captured, and he licks the crooked tip—using a lot of saliva, making it damp and straightening out the fur at the same time, before lowering it to the bed.

“You are probably exhausted now, little one. Let me care for you.” My skin shivers at the sound of his voice—that kindness is so familiar. Why do I know it? I realize I have tears streaming down my face when he gets up to leave the room for a moment. 

Oh, my gods, I just lost my virginity! I can’t help the thought—and I am shocked at my own behavior, and I feel my ears burning with heat.

“You silly kitten,” Rai says, when he comes back in. “Were you saving it for someone else? Do you not find me worthy of such a treasure? Don’t you remember?”

“Remember?” I ask softly. Rai is carrying a small basin and a cloth. He kneels down by the bed—still nude—but that fluffy white tail covers him. I _knew_ he would do that. How did I know?

“Remember that I have taken it before? This is not the first time I have taken it,” he murmurs, lowering a cloth, damp with warm water to my body. The way he cleans me up—and the scent of the oil in the water—it’s familiar. I know it.

“Taken what before?” I ask, sleepily. 

He looks down at me with a smile. 

“I think you are starting to remember. It’s usually shortly after our first sexual encounter that you remember, after all. Though it’s been so long—almost three centuries—that I last saw you.”

“Three centuries? Three hundred years? What do you mean, since you last saw me?” I ask, yawning. 

“Perhaps it will take a little longer for you to remember this time,” he says thoughtfully. “I’m so glad I waited. I wasn’t sure you’d ever return. I thought perhaps you’d forgotten me.”

I am quiet for a while, enjoying the sensations, unable to move my body, while he wipes me down, treating my body as something sacred and special—though I am somewhat embarrassed.

“Your ears are very sweet this time around,” Rai says, brushing the tips with his fingers. “They are a different color than normal. But I will _always_ recognize your soul.”

“My soul…?” I echo softly. I watch as he sets aside the basin, and then he leans down to kiss me again—and he breathes softly into my lungs, just like he did while he was entering me. Is this a pain relief mechanism? It relaxes me, for sure—and it feels so good, so _familiar_. I kiss him as he does this.

Then, he crawls into the bed behind me, and pulls me up against his chest, making sure my body is laid out nice and straight, flush against his, so as much of my skin is touching his as possible. My tail fluffs out again, being in such close contact with such a big cat—and he feels warm to me now, for some reason—and it searches out its fluffier, fuller, longer, mate, entwining itself around Rai’s tail happily. My ears twitch as I am groomed, with long slow strokes of his tongue. And then a sense of deja-vu comes over me. 

Lying in a bed just like this, maybe in this same cabin, in this same space, with this cat, many times before—letting him groom me just like this.

Tears drip down my face, and I can’t explain them. 

“Are you weeping? Ah—don’t cry,” Rai whispers into my ears—the sibilant sound of his hissing voice sending small shivers up my back and down into my spine and tail.

“I think I remember,” I say. “I remember you. I was yours. I have _always_ been your Sanga. Why did I forget?”

“You have. And I will always be your Touga.”  
  
“What happened? What is our story? Why are you a yokai? Will my world allow you to be with me? What if they do not accept you?” 

“Hush, now. Konoe, you have been singing too much and I have made you overexert yourself. Just relax and sleep. I will explain it all to you in the morning.”

“But… you’ve been _lonely_ , waiting all these years! And I—I didn’t recognize you! I ran from you because I was afraid! I’m so sorry!” 

“It’s all right,” he whispers. “It’s all right now. We are together now, and you remember me. That is all that matters now. Just sleep.” 

I allow myself to relax, trying to quiet my sobs, unable to believe the additional amount of pain and suffering I’ve caused this beautiful, lonely creature because of what I didn’t understand. But he simply continues grooming me, shushing me, urging me off to sleep. Eventually, he kisses me again—one of those magic, relaxing kisses, which I turn into a fervent one, and he smiles at me, his gentle, soft smile—that pale blue eye sparkling happily. And I drift off to sleep.

I dream of a Touga and Sanga pair—one fated together, bound by love, even beyond death. The Touga became a yokai, waiting for his Sanga to return for his next incarnation. The Sanga would return each and every life—to spend every moment he had with his beloved Touga.

 


	5. The Desperation of a Vampire, Part 2 - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the continuation of the first one-shot in this series—re-read if you need an update, but basically, Vampire Konoe has made a deal with a young(ish) bounty hunter Rai.
> 
> This story is the result of some serious stress, so please be warned. Konoe is becoming addicted to Rai, against his better judgment.
> 
> There is punishment as well as a good deal of angst and non-con and dub-con stuff.

It was foolish to think I could trust a bounty hunter—especially one who hunted my kind. He promised me an equal exchange a couple of months ago. He had been hired to exterminate me, and indeed, he saved me from the city that had been my hunting grounds for months and also put that bounty on my head. But it was the mating season and we were compatible. After restraining me with silver and leaving me alone and starving me for three days, he finally made his proposal. His blood in exchange for sex.

It was a good deal for me. His blood is like nothing I’ve ever tasted. It’s rich and sweet, and I _crave_ it with every cell of my being. Every night when he returns from his work, I ask him for it. But if I drink, I will have to put up my part of the bargain: sex.

The first few days, it was a nice surprisingly pleasant experience for me, despite the difference in our statures. But I think that was only because of the mating season. I didn’t realize it, but apparently, vampires experience symptoms of compatibility, and our compatibility dissolved any pain during our connection. However, as the days went on, I realized that my craving for his blood only increased, and the heat actually disappeared. His scent didn’t change though it became more subtle. But by this time, I had to have his blood and was used to its rich texture and taste, as well as the way it satisfied my body, and I craved it and wanted more.

The first time I experienced our, um, _exchange_ without also experiencing symptoms of heat was quite a shock. I had fed from his jugular—gently and tenderly like always—and was in a sleepy and dreamy state like I always am after a feeding. Frankly, I was very vulnerable. It’s the reason most vampires drain their prey, after all; they are their most vulnerable after feeding. And the hunter had warned me that my payment might feel a little different that night, but I craved his blood so much that I paid him no mind. 

He treated me differently, too—he prepared me a little more with his fingers, I noticed, but I didn’t care since I was so relaxed and drowsy from my feeding. I did notice that I felt a twinge of pain when he was preparing me, and I winced but couldn’t really do anything about it. I assumed it was because he had been rough with me the night before. At that point, what could I do? I had already fed; I had to put up my end of the bargain after all. 

However, when he actually entered me, it was an entirely different story. It was actually painful—and not just in a tight or full sensation like before. Even though he had prepared me and was moving slowly, I felt I was being torn open or ripped apart—so much that I begged him to stop and begged for mercy. He did stop—for a moment—long enough to lick the tears streaming from my eyes. I was facing him with my knees pushed up to my chest.

“Isn’t this what you agreed to, my little vampire kitten from Karou?” I can clearly remember his low voice sinking into my ears, and it made my heart flutter and beat faster, even _after_ I’d fed, making me want to drink more. I could never get enough blood from him. But I knew if I waited out this pain, I would soon receive something else that would satisfy my thirst as well.

“I-i did, b-but I d-didn’t know it would b-be s-so painful!” I hissed. He boldly licked my bared fangs. 

“You will just have to put up with it, won’t you?” He didn’t say it cruelly, and I had made this bargain. I couldn’t very well back out now. In a way, I had expected this the first time. The fact that it hurt the very first time surprised me.

And honestly, he could have made quick work of the act—he could have hurried along and finished, found his own pleasure quickly. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he took his time, trying to make things as pleasant for me as possible. He stroked my tail, my cock, my ears, and my hair—and he even offered me his neck once again—which I didn't take that time, but I did the next night. 

Oh, yes. I was a fool to take his blood the next night.

Because once I found my own pleasure, crying out in ecstasy once again—such a strange experience, mixing pain with pleasure, then realizing the pain had dissolved completely into pleasure, overcome by pleasure once again, and then filled with his seed—it was like having a second meal. I was addicted!

So I waited for him the next day. He was surprised to see me waiting for him. He hadn’t restrained me with silver that night. It was the first time he had allowed me to leave if I wanted. But I stayed. I had tasted his blood and then decided I wanted it. I _needed_ it. And I wanted his come, too. It satisfied me as well.

The next night, sex hurt even more—probably because the mating season was even further in the past. I sank my teeth in his neck a second time which allowed me to relax a little more—and that made it bearable. No—not bearable. It made it _enjoyable_.

Enjoyable enough for me to wait for him the next day. _And_ the next. I was a _complete_ fool. Never had I done something so foolish! I don't think another vampire had ever been such a fool as I.

During the season, it was a good exchange. But he’s a large cat, and I am small, and he exhausts me on purpose, I think. And now, I can’t help my craving for him. He has a specific routine. If he returns to our house or hideout and I do not approach him, he does things to _make_ me approach him. Simple by grooming himself or even grooming me and by putting his scent on me or in the air, I _have_ to have his blood. I can't resist.

However, in the past few days, he hasn’t returned to our house. It happened once before. I knew he’d be on a longer hunt because he said he’d be back in a few days time. He was gone for three days, and I was starving for him when he returned—and not only for his blood. I think my body craves his touch, his body, and (to my dismay) his come as well. I practically attacked him when he finally returned, which he found utterly delightful. But what worries me is that he hadn’t said anything about being gone before he left this time.

So tonight, I've decided I will search for him. I hope I won’t get lost and that I can find my way home or else a safe dark place to sleep before daybreak. And what if he returns home? What will he do if I’m not here? I don’t want him to think I’ve deserted him and our bargain.

When dusk falls and I wake up, I stretch my legs and my body, wondering if my skills in hypnosis have improved. I haven’t really used them over the past months since Rai is immune. I used to try, of course, on the nights I was particularly sore, but he would just tease me. I wonder if he never returns, will I be able to hunt for myself again? 

The thought of it is slightly disgusting to me. I don’t really _want_ to drink another cat’s blood. Only my silver cat has that rich blood, and it is delicious and sweet. It makes my mouth water even thinking of it. And I haven’t had _anything_ in several days—and I'm starving. I wonder why he tastes so sweet to me.

I leave the small house we've been staying in—it’s in the middle of the forest. I smell the air, hoping I will be able to find it again. I scratch the trees outside as I walk, leaving a trail of scent as I go. I hope to be able to return the way I came.

But I don’t smell my cat anywhere.

As I walk, however, I detect the presence of another cat. It’s a male, smaller than my silver cat. Hiding in the bushes off the side of the path, I see a medium-sized orange tabby carrying a large basket over his shoulder. He is a merchant. He doesn’t smell terrible, I suppose, and I am very, very hungry. I can't afford to be picky, and he will increase my strength. Perhaps he has come across my cat. I step out onto the path to try my hypnosis.

“Uwaa!” The tabby looks at me, startled. “You frightened me! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you!” 

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” I say, looking up at the tabby through my long lashes, putting on the charm and my most hypnotic voice. “I was wondering if you might be able to help me.”

“Help you?” He asks, his voice softening. I can tell my hypnosis is working.

“I can see you’re a merchant, and I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you’ve seen him?”

“I am, and of course.” He smiles, his eyes glazing over. I approach him. He smells pretty nice—a little floral, mixed with a little sweat.

“Have you seen a tall cat with long white fur and hair down to his waist?”

“Um… let me think,” his voice trails off, but he is staring at me, trying to please me. It means he hasn’t seen Rai, yet he’s still trying to please me.

“It’s all right if you haven’t. You can still help me.”

“Oh, good,” he smiles again. His eyes are lapis blue, twinkling in the light of the moon.

“Would you put your basket down for a moment?” I suggest, and I watch him obey. I'd forgotten what it feels like to be the powerful creature I am. I sigh with delight and my fur ripples with pleasure. “Thank you. Now, close your beautiful eyes.”

I approach a little more closely and I lick his neck a few times to numb it. He shivers beneath my touch.

“I won’t hurt you,” I whisper just before sinking my fangs into his skin. I allow his blood to drip into my mouth—slowly, slowly—and I swallow it, enjoying the taste but unable to stop comparing it to my silver cat. It’s disappointing and I find I feel slightly annoyed.

I’m pleased with myself for being able to hunt prey on my own but irritated that while I _should_ be feeling pleasure and enjoying my meal that the silver cat is in my mind. I don’t drink my fill—only enough to get more energy—and I lick the wounds I’ve made on the orange tabby’s neck, healing them as much as possible.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “You’ve helped me so much. Rest here, now. Forget all that you’ve seen tonight and feel rejuvenated when you wake.”

I help him to the side of the road, next to the bushes where he’s left his basket, and then I continue on my way. I am still annoyed and irritable. 

I can sense something else in the woods with me—but I don’t know what it is. My eyes are much sharper than a Ribika’s, so I scan the area. It takes a little while, but I see a large cat, missing part of his tail. He’s a spotted brown cat. He hasn’t bathed in some time, and he doesn’t look friendly.

He looks like he’s been traveling for a while, though. And honestly, I’m interested in honing my hypnosis skills, so I figure I’ll give them another try. He hasn’t noticed me, so I sneak up on him and make a surprise appearance.

“Holy shit!” The brown cat snarls at me. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

I start to wonder if I’ve perhaps misjudged my target once I’ve approached him. He’s not as big as the silver cat, but he’s broad and muscular. He isn’t the type I’d usually try to feed on, surely. And he doesn’t smell very attractive. In fact, he is slightly disgusting. I don't remember being so picky in the past.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” I say, looking up at him with a smile. But I’m slightly horrified when I see how my friendly glance is being returned. His eyes are raking across my body in a lewd and undignified way. He is devouring me with his eyes, and I see him lick his lips. I'm sure he is thinking about fucking me. I wouldn't have known this before I met my silver cat, of course, but I recognize it now.

“Where did you come from, kitten? And what on earth are you doing out here in the woods, all alone, you pretty little thing?” His voice slithers into my ear and it's repellent.

My tail is grabbed suddenly, but not roughly. Instead, my fur is gently stroked. It feels revolting. But I manage to smile in a friendly way and meet his eyes, putting all my will behind my gaze once again—working on my hypnosis.

“Perhaps you can help me, sir.”

His eyes glaze over—I can see them go from hungry to glossy in seconds—and I feel _much_ safer. I have to maintain this gaze, however, for the hypnosis to remain the most effective. But I relax significantly. 

“Help you?” He echoes, his voice suddenly much softer and much more submissive. Gods, again, I feel like the powerful creature I am. I am a powerful _mystical_ creature, _a vampire,_ not a slave to some silver cat just because I like the taste of his blood and am attracted to the shape of his body and the feel of his hands on my skin.

“Yes. I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you can tell me if you’ve seen him?”

“Of course.” He is _very_ willing to help me.

“He’s a Setsuran with long silver hair and fur. Have you seen him?”

“Wait—the _bounty_ hunter?” The brown spotted cat asks, his voice becoming slightly nervous. “What does a kitten like you want with the likes of that bounty hunter?”

“Shh. It's all right,” I soothe him, and he is soothed. “Never mind that. Here, sit down and make yourself comfortable. Have you seen him?” I’m pleased to see the cat lower himself to his knees. 

“I haven’t. And I’d run if I had.”

“Run? Why?”

“There’s a bounty out on me, and like _hell_ do I want _that_ guy after me.”

“I see.” Then, I get a fantastic idea. I will assist my silver cat in collecting this bounty! I squat down next to him. “I won’t hurt you. No one will hurt you. I will keep you safe. Now, raise your chin for me.” 

I hear something rustling in the woods behind me, and my ears twitch backward to try to figure out what it is. I think it’s another cat—but it sounds pretty far away—and I can’t take my eyes off the brown cat in front of me without risking the hypnosis.

“You’re being so good for me,” I coo softly to the subdued cat. I rub his ears and he presses himself into my hands almost roughly. It frightens me a little, and I say, “Oh, be gentle now.” 

“You are so pretty—so enchanting—your eyes are so…” He sighs softly. It's strange for him to do, even under hypnosis, though it has happened before—desires becoming more pronounced.

His voice _really_ disgusts me. It sounds jarring. I don't know if it's his voice or his scent that disgusts me more. I look at the vein pulsing in his throat and I can smell his scent from where I am standing in front of him. I thought I might suck him dry. But he smells too awful for me to do that! So perhaps just enough to make him weak. Since when have I become so picky?

Plus, there’s the rustling behind me again. I need to do something about that, so I whisper, “Close your eyes for me like the good boy you are.” This will save me a little time—to lick him and numb my prey’s throat. I lower my face to his neck and take a short lick on his neck—and it’s as disgusting as I expect. I feel a little bile rising in the back of my throat, but I _have_ to do this. For _Rai_. For my silver cat. I will prove myself a worthy ally.

But then—a subtle but very different scent hits my nostrils. It’s sweet, but it’s a very clean scent, pure and proud. I look up, instantly thankful I’ve thought to ask my prey to close his eyes. Is my silver cat here? Perhaps he was just here and I missed him?

I hear the rustling behind me again, so I turn my head around and I hear a soft hiss in my ear.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

My initial excitement explodes into surprise and then anger when I am violently pushed from my prey, who is currently still on his knees in front of me, his chin lifted. I was about to disable him, for the sake of the silver cat standing right before me. And yet, this is the greeting I get?! Violence and anger?! What the hell is his problem?!

“The fuck!?” I shout when my arm is grabbed and I am painfully restrained with that horrible silver chain I haven’t seen in weeks. I growl with pain. Even though I have recently fed, he knows _exactly_ how to restrain me with it so I can’t move an inch. 

I fight back tears of rage and pain—but I watch as the silver cat quickly restrains the cat I have hypnotized with rope. The brown cat doesn’t move or say anything. He is still kneeling with his eyes closed. He will probably remain submissive for at least another five minutes, I’d guess. 

“Get this off of me!” I yell. “You’d better fucking hurry with that rope, too, since you only have about five minutes.”

“Five minutes before what? What the hell were you doing to him?” From the forest floor, I am watching with a certain degree of terror and wonder at the efficacy of the silver cat’s movements. He knows his way around rope. I wonder if he has a past life as a sailor. Or worked in a brothel. Or has some kinks I’m not aware of. And that last one worries me more than I care to admit. Before even 60 seconds have passed, the brown cat is soundly restrained, while the silver burns my wrists and ankles.

Then it occurs to me: Perhaps Rai was stalking this cat as well and I interrupted his hunt? Is that why he was away so long? 

“What are you doing here?” The silver cat drops into a crouch next to me, lifting up my chin. He moves the chain so it covers the skin on my neck, and it feels like it sizzles. I flinch, and I desperately fight back tears and bare my fangs helplessly.

“Take it off!” I hiss angrily, but I can’t defend myself or escape, and we both know it. Struggling only makes it hurt more. “I was looking for _you_! You didn’t come back, so I was searching for you!”

There’s a pause during which he examines my expression, and he lowers his nose to my neck and sniffs me. His breath makes me shiver and long for his touch, despite his cruel treatment of me.

“You’ve fed on another cat! Did you _kill_ him? Were you planning to eat this cat, too?”

“It’s been _three_ days! I’ve become accustomed to a certain… routine, and you didn’t even tell me you’d be away! I was worried!”

“Worried?! Which is why you fed on the first cat you came across and then looked for the most _dangerous_ one you could find for your next meal?!”

“I didn’t kill _anyone_!” I burst out angrily. “I was _hungry_! He was just a merchant, and it was convenient, and he’s _fine_. He said he hadn’t seen you so I kept looking. I found _this_ cat and he told me he had a bounty on his head. I thought I was helping you by taking him hostage!” 

“Helping me by sucking the blood of someone _other_ than me?! Were you going to let him fuck you, too? Did you fuck the merchant as well?”

A tiny pause passes when I can't believe my ears. Does he really think of me like that?

“Wh- _what_?” I’m stunned. I feel like I’ve been struck.

“You heard me.” He still is gripping my chin tightly, those pale blue eyes boring into my soul, and his words actually feel like they've pierced my chest.

I want to say _fuck you_. I want to say, _I have no exclusive agreement with you_. I want to say, _you have no authority over me_. But instead, I feel that stabbing pain in my chest and the silver chain burning my skin. My vision blurs and my cheeks are damp. It takes me a minute to realize _tears_ have spilled down my face. Worse—because the chain is draped over my wrists I can’t wipe them away. And he is gripping my chin so I can’t look away! 

Instead of all of those things I _want_ to say, I hear the following words from my mouth:

“I came looking for you. I was worried. I _missed_ you. I _wanted_ you. I _craved_ you. I was so _desperate_. I was _lonely_. I-i thought I was _helping_ you!” And a loud, childish sob escapes my mouth—a sound I haven’t made as long as I can remember.

This is not the first time this silver cat has made me cry. But it _is_ the first time I have felt this much pain and the first time a sob this loud has escaped my lips in front of him. And I don’t look away. I want him to see it! I want him to see that it hurts. In fact—the feelings and energy I use in hypnosis—I put those into the gaze I am giving the silver cat right now. 

“Where _were_ you?! Why did you leave without saying anything?! Did I do something to displease you? And why are you so angry with me now?” While I may have started my questions in a strong voice, my last two questions are soft and quiet, tearful and weak.

I see the silver cat’s breath catch in his throat—and I watch as understanding appears in his eyes. His face softens—that angry, accusing glare dissolves into palpable relief.

“Konoe. This cat—this bounty? He is a former vampire hunter. I’d heard he was in the area three days ago, and it took me longer to catch him than I expected. I thought I’d find him the first day, but it extended into the night, the next day, and then the next night. I’d left you before, and I thought you’d understand. Mostly, I couldn’t risk taking my eyes off him for a second. When I saw you approach him, I nearly lost my mind.”

Rai finally moves the silver chain away from my body and picks me up off the ground. It takes me a moment to recover—and the feeling—going from a burning painful sensation to the feeling of his body surrounding me—is nothing short of euphoric.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my ears. “I was worried about you. I was trying to protect you. And I didn’t like… um, I _didn’t_ like… smelling another cat’s scent on you. Or watching you about to take blood from another cat. Especially one out to kill you.”

Rai was _jealous_? Is that what this is about?  
  
“That chain _burns_ me,” I say. “It feels like I’m being burned when it touches me. Why did you—?” 

“Gods, I am sorry!” Rai won’t look at me. “I went out of my mind when I saw you kissing this asshole.”

“I wasn’t _kissing_ him!” I sputter. “I was—“

“He could have killed you! He was good at his job and beyond brutal!”

I’m a little surprised by the vehemence in Rai’s tone. Is it possible he cares about me? Was he worried?

“He was hypnotized and he didn’t recognize me as a vampire,” I say, glancing up at Rai’s pale blue eyes. “Were you that worried?”

“What if I was? I’d been hunting him for three days.”

“Hmph,”I murmur softly, lowering my face back to the silver cat’s chest—mostly so I can bury my nose in his scent. I _have_ missed him. “There’s no way that guy is a vampire hunter. Or if he is, that he was ever any good. He didn’t stand a chance.”

“So you say! But perhaps you were just lucky this time! The way you approached him was _reckless_!”

“But you were just sitting there watching him! Doing nothing? Waiting for him to what? Flee? Attack?” I giggle a little. What kind of bounty hunter _is_ this silver cat anyway? Is he really so feared?

“I was _stalking_ him.” The icy tone of his voice frightens me. “Just like I stalked you. I let you approach me, after all.”

A small shiver runs down my back.

“Still,” I insist stubbornly.

“You got lucky.”

“I didn’t. I’m a powerful magical creature and I easily overcame him!”

“You were _reckless_! What if he’d used the silver he was carrying?”

I huff quietly. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he was a hunter.

“He didn’t, and I’m fine. He was eating from the palm of my hand. He still _is_ , in fact. You probably didn’t even need to restrain him,” I say proudly.

“You are an incorrigible _brat_ who needs to learn his place.” The grip on my back gets a little stronger. “So. Here’s what I will do. I need to drop him off with the local authority. Then, I will teach you a lesson.”  
  
“What _lesson_?!” I say, now miffed. “I _caught_ him for you! I did your job _for_ you! The bounty should be _mine_ to collect!”

“Then go collect it!” Rai snarls low in his throat. “The moment you walk into the bar—if you can even find it, which you probably couldn’t—” my ears flatten at his insult. I hadn’t realized he’d figured out I have so little sense of direction, which is a total embarrassment, “half the bar would realize what you were and kill you or capture you for research, right there on the spot and steal your bounty.”

He’s growling low in my ear, making the soft downy fur in deep inside move and tickle. It sends shivers down my spine. He may be scolding me, but to me—it feels different.

“You’d be out your bounty and your life. Is it worth the risk?”

I close my eyes against the sound of his voice. It’s like honey to my ears, a balm to my soul.

“Well, _is_ it?” He really does sound irritated with me.

“Mmm. I guess not,” I reply, keeping my voice soft, and tilting my chin just enough so I can point my gaze up at him, blinking my lashes slowly.

“What’s _this,_ then?” He snaps.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“This… _look_ of yours?”

“What look?”

He growls at me, and another very obvious shiver rushes through my body—enough to fluff out my fur.

“You _know_ what look.”

“You’re frightening me,” I say, looking away. “I came all this way because I _missed_ you. And I tried to _help_ you. And now… you are _scolding_ me.”

“Don’t scold him. He’s too pretty.” Finally—the brown cat is speaking quietly. His eyes are still closed.

“I’m going to do a _hell_ of a lot more to you than _scold_ you once I get you back home!” Rai’s long white fangs are bared at me, and his voice sounds so tempting! “Come along.” 

It’s like a forced march—and my body is so _hot_ by the time we get back home. But Rai doesn’t come in. He pushes me through and glowers over me, fangs bared, a growl in his throat, fur bristled.  He speaks a low and calm tone.

“I should have locked you in before I left. I never should have trusted a creature like you. Listen to me. I will be back in 30 minutes. When I return, you will face the consequences of your recklessness.”

I shudder—obviously again—my fur bristling in response. Rai doesn’t appreciate my response in the least, but he lowers his hands to my ears just the same.

“I want _all_ the scent from other cats cleaned from your body upon I return. Also, you may want to prepare yourself. I will be in a hurry, and your comfort will _not_ be my concern.”

My ears bristle at his words, and he bites the tip of one and grips my tail hard. I try to lick at his neck—I’m craving his blood _so_ much—but his other hand keeps me at bay.

“I wouldn’t be so hopeful if I were you. This is about _punishment_ , so use your time wisely. See you in half an hour, kitten.”

He pushes me back into the small room hard, making me stumble to the floor, barely able to catch myself. He closes the door and locks it behind him. This small house has barred windows—which is why he chose it in the first place. But I’m frightened. 

And now, I have to decide whether to obey or defy him. What the hell? He is _not_ my master! 

And yet—I left only a few hours ago, desperate to find him, and half the night is gone.

Listlessly, I stumble into the bathroom, where there is cold water for me to use for bathing as well as some soap. I strip off my clothes and start scrubbing myself clean. As I’m cleaning myself, making my skin slightly raw with nerves, I start to think about his words.

He’s never used the words _consequences_ or _punishment_  before. What right does he have to dictate my behavior? And yet—could I resist him, at this point? Do I even _want_ to? I could try to escape, but I don’t want to. I _want_ to be with him. 

Then as I get to the lower half of my body, all my fur bristles up. Didn’t he say to _prepare_ myself? He couldn’t mean prepare myself like _that_ , could he? Although as I think about it, I remember the phrase he said afterward: My comfort wouldn’t be his concern? I ought to use my time wisely?  
  
Oh, my gods.

I start to feel a little more nervous.

I finish up washing quickly, realizing I’ve wasted more than half my time in here, rubbing my skin raw, trying to get the other cats’ scents off of me. But now, I’m afraid. If he doesn’t let me feed first, I won’t be relaxed. And then if he doesn’t, um, prepare me at all, if he plans to fuck me, it’s going to _hurt_!

Shit!

 _That’s_ what he meant by using my time wisely. I look around frantically by the bed for the lubricant he uses with me. I’ve never used it myself—I’ve never done this—and it’s embarrassing and humiliating, but I’m frightened enough to try. I’m starting to wonder if this is really worth it. Also—I’m completely naked, but what’s the point of getting dressed if I have to do this anyway?

I crawl into the bed, covering as much of my body as I can with the sheet and smear the lube on my fingers. How do I even go about this? I’m still slightly aroused from being around my silver cat after so long, but I’m scared, and that has zapped a lot of my arousal. _Although_ … 

I turn over onto my stomach and I think about my silver cat walking through the door and ravishing me—no preparation, just taking me from behind. Strangely, it _doesn’t_ disgust me. It would be painful—of course, it would hurt! But if he wanted it, wouldn’t I allow it? In fact, there’s something oddly appealing about it.

And would he _punish_ me first? I wonder. _How_ will he punish me?

I’ve gotten lube on my other hand to stroke my cock, which has plumped up again nicely, and I sigh with pleasure. Thankfully, I have a pillow underneath my head that muffles my voice.

I stroke myself beneath my tail, imagining Rai doing the same, and I begin with a single finger. In the past, he has painted me with lubricant, he has been gentle and slightly rougher with me, and he has even _licked_ me there. But he has never been violent or cruel. And today, he has given me time and fair warning. So I slide a finger inside that tight ring of muscle. There’s a slight pinch, but I just breathe through it and keep stroking my dick and my imagination soars.

While keeping my breath even, I imagine the silver cat leaning over my back and stroking me the way I am doing. I _so_ wish his scent was still lingering in the sheets a little more, but I have some fresh scent on my ears and neck, so that is just enough. If I close my eyes and keep them closed, I can imagine him licking the back of my neck, nipping my ears, grasping my tail, pulling it up just a little—and I can’t do that on my own, but the thought makes me quiver. 

I gasp when I insert a second finger. It’s strange to feel inside myself. It's hot—and silky smooth—and soft. And for just a moment, I wonder what it would feel like inside the silver cat. Would he _ever_ allow me?

The thought make me incredibly horny and I gasp again. My dick is straining and my thighs start to shake. I’ve lowered my body from all fours to nearly flat against the mattress. I am eager to connect with the silver cat, and I don’t care now if he takes me hard and violently. He can ravish me without warning, and I will deal with the pain.

I easily slide in a third finger—and it doesn’t cross my mind that my fingers are smaller than Rai’s—my stature is smaller than his, so of course, even this kind of preparation won’t be enough. But I am feeling so lewd and vulgar that I don’t care. I am longing for him to return. 

And then—I sense him approaching from outside. 

My sense of direction may be shit, but since connecting with him so regularly, I can detect his presence from a reasonable distance. And I hear his long, soft gait—not making an effort to walk quietly tonight. He is walking with a purpose. I can’t wait, but I don’t stop what I am doing.

I hear the keys jingle in the lock—he locked me in as though I’m some sort of possession—and even _that_ thought, which would normally be repulsive to me, adds to my arousal. What is _wrong_ with me? Is it because it’s been so long? Because I’ve become accustomed to him?

He enters and closes the door behind him quietly.

“Rai.”

I say his name softly—in a husky, needy voice. I can almost _feel_ his fur bristle. He has missed me, too—even if he doesn’t say so. I know he has, and I shiver with anticipation.

“Did you do as I asked?”

“I did,” I answer softly, removing my fingers from inside me and curling up on my side. The sheet is falling around my body softly, exposing my legs, my arms, and my shoulders but covering the rest of me. “Were you able to collect the reward?” 

“That’s not your concern,” he replies somewhat sharply—sharp enough to make my ears flatten a little. I look up at him through my lashes.

“It isn’t?” I ask, keeping my voice soft.

“No. As I told you before I left, your only concern is that lesson.”

A small shiver ripples down my spine and more obviously through the fur on my tail.

“And you are _far_ too excited about the prospect of this lesson, my little vampire.”

I _love_ that endearment. I _want_ to be his. I want to feed on him—I need his blood and I want it now. I sit up in the bed, letting the sheet fall off my body, and I see his pupils dilate.

“Please,” I beg—I press him with all the force I can muster. I know my hypnosis doesn’t affect him. “I searched for you. I am craving your blood. Just a small taste. Please.”

“Kitten, you will have no such thing after this reckless behavior,” Rai says, sitting next to me on the bed. But he still takes me in his arms and lets me smell him—and my gods—his scent is delicious and sweet—and I can’t help myself, I lick his throat. “What did I _just_ say?! You disobedient little brat.”

His voice sounds gentle, though, and I love its deep purr rumbling in my ears. But he makes me feel even _more_ desperate. Much to my dismay, Rai seems serious about not indulging me. In fact, he pulls me away from him rather roughly, pushing my face down against the bed and pulling me across his lap.

I feel rather exposed, especially when I feel my toes touch the floor and his hands stroking my lower back and buttocks—one stroking the base of my tail gently, which can’t help responding by fluffing out in pleasure and swishing wantonly. I sigh, turning my head toward him to inhale his scent— _so_ glad he is back—but his touch suddenly pushes me a little more firmly into his lap and I suddenly realize what _exactly_ he is planning.

“W-wait a minute—” I stammer, struggling to get up from this embarrassing position. I don’t _like_ this! I am a mystical creature, a powerful vampire! I have no intention to be punished like some disobedient child!

“If you are going to act out in a reckless, childish manner, I will gladly treat you like one. Submit, little vampire. You know you’ve earned this.”

The words are hummed into my ear and my ear is bitten. It makes me feel submissive, but I feel slightly nervous, even as my tail is so pleasantly stroked.

“It seems you’ve taken my advice. That was wise.” 

“Wh-what?” I can’t control the stammering. I still crave his blood—very much. I can’t help it.

“Your skin—it’s so beautifully flushed. It seems you’ve been taking care of yourself while you were waiting for me.” 

I feel the blood rushing to my ears, and they are brushed softly. I don’t know how he can still fluster me after all this time, but he is certainly able to.

“Listen carefully. It’s _unsafe_ for you to leave this place without telling me. There has been a resurgence of hunters of your kind and the price on your head has increased—and it may not _just_ be on your life. They might take you alive—to research you and torture you.”

I didn’t know. But he could have mentioned something before now if he did!

“That is why you are under my protection.”  
  
“I was trying to help—” 

My ear is nipped suddenly, and I wince in pain.

“Hush. I asked you to _listen_.” My buttocks are stroked—the curve of my ass, right where it meets my thighs. It feels so nice, but also threatening. “You must learn to _submit_ to me. That is part of the bargain you made.”  
  
Was it? I thought this was an exchange of blood for sex?

“It wasn’t!” I protest.

“Oh?” He purrs softly. “To what do you think it was you agreed?”

“I thought I volunteered to exchange my body for your blood!”

“My blood and protection—in exchange for saving your life and your body, if you recall,” he continues to purr. It feels good in my bones—that low rumble. It’s satisfying. “This part of you is particularly sensitive, isn’t it?”

I feel the tips of his fingers stroke me again—right along the curve of my ass—and my skin shivers and my fur bristles. 

“It’s unfortunate for you, as it will see some punishment today.”

With that low voice, his fingertips leave my body and the hand stroking the base of my tail presses me hard against his lap. It feels so good—at first—grinding my erection against his thighs—and I gasp in unexpected pleasure. But then—

Smack!

A mewling yelp escapes my lips—and tears burn at the corners of my eyes. He just _hit_ me! No—he actually _spanked_ me! I was afraid that was what was he was planning, with what how he had positioned me on his lap. Before I can catch my breath—and while the stinging pain sizzles almost pleasantly to down my legs and into my cheeks—

Smack! Smack!

My left and my right cheeks are spanked just as hard. I actually _meow_  after my complaining cry of pain—but he lowers his hand against my ass and smoothes it over my now burning skin. It has the strange effect of spreading out the pain. It _almost_ feels pleasant—but not quite—and even more blood pools in my hips.

Smack! Smack!

My hands fly up from the mattress to protect my thighs—which is where I was spanked this time—the upper parts of them just below my ass. He isn’t holding back, but right after he spanked them, he opened his fingers again and spread out the pain. He also catches my hands easily, pinning them to the base of my tail, making me arch my lower back and present my ass more fully.

“I thought I told you to _submit_ ,” he growls into my ear, nipping it lightly again.

“Please,” I whisper, tears falling. It _hurts_ —and it’s humiliating. But worst of all, to my utter surprise, I kind of _like_ it! To be treated like this and enjoy it—I don't know what to do! My cock is straining against his lap.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

I’m crying out when he finishes the next set—a volley against my sit spot, each cheek and each upper thigh—and then he smoothes over my ass gently, and yanks the base of my tail, which makes me moan in pleasure.

“Hmm. I wonder if you are actually _learning_ your lesson.”

Another five swats and then he barks at me, “Kneel.”

I struggle to obey as soon as I am released, one hand wiping my tears, the other on my ass, my fur bristled. And kneeling on the floor in front of him, I am completely exposed. He looks at me and smiles.

“Tell me what you’ve learned.”  
  
“To submit to you?” I ask. I do not think I want to be spanked again. It was so humiliating and confusing. And why did I enjoy it? Even thinking about the sound his hand made against my flesh makes my cock drip—right here in front of him. I can't meet his eye.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He strokes my ears lightly. “You’re a good kitten. You won’t leave without my permission again?”

“N-no.” I look down.

“Look at me.” His voice is so sharp my head snaps up immediately.

“N-no,” I repeat. He doesn’t look angry. In fact—his pupils are dilated. My gods—he looks delicious!

He pulls me back up onto his lap, my burning ass touching his leather pants, and says, “Good kitten.” And then he buries his nose in my ears, my hair, my nape—and I am thankful I washed so carefully. And I enjoy his scent. It is such an intimate touch—it feels… loving. I finally feel forgiven, and so I ask again, very softly, my face pressed against his chest.

“Please.”

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet. Don’t you remember what I said?” My chin is lifted slightly. I know he wants to kiss me but is thinking I might bite him. I _might_ actually bite him. 

“ _Please_ , Rai. You’ve been away for so long!” I plead softly, closing my eyes a little.

He kisses my nose and my chin, both my cheeks, my eyelids, then my lips—chastely—and I do not move. I am very obedient, so obedient! 

“So submissive. Now. Be a good boy and lie down on the bed.” My body is shaking slightly—having to resist his blood when he is this close is painful! But I still obey, thinking ahead and anticipating to what is to come. I want him—and I want more of him. I do climb up on on the bed and lie down as he instructed, but I am overcome with thirst and desire. I turn my head and arch my back.

“ _Please_ —Rai—please—it’s been _days_ —I went to find you and—”

“Hush now, my little kitten. You’ve been so obedient for me so far, and I want you to say that way.” My ass is stroked and strong hands run through the fur on my tail, making me purr helplessly. I relax as much as I can, and then my entire body is pulled back roughly—burning the skin on my belly, giving me rug burn. I am shocked by the sudden movement—and its violence. But it doesn’t diminish my excitement. “What’s this? You’re not frightened? What _do_ I have to do to scare you, little vampire?” 

“Please,” I plead again, still staying exactly as he has me positioned. “ _Please_ —just a small taste!” I don’t raise my voice, but I feel tears burning the corners of my eyes. “If I could have just a small taste first—I won’t take more than just a sip—”

“I know you wouldn’t, kitten, but that would be defeating the point of your lesson, wouldn’t it?”

My toes touch the floor, and his hands vanish from my body for a moment. I think he might spank me again—but I hear rustling fabric and something from the table, and that makes my ears twitch with desire. Then—his hands are on my cheeks again and they feel so cool compared to my hot skin—but they are not gentle. They are spreading me apart roughly. I dig my claws into the mattress and brace myself, and even my toes bury themselves into the carpet below the bed. I take a deep breath in and beg one more time, almost a wheeze.

“Please—”

“I think you should have thought about your actions before now, little one.” That purring voice growls slightly in my ear. It feels so nice that I relax my body, and I feel him lining himself up with my entrance. I sigh softly as he nips my ear and the nuzzles the back of my neck. I’ve felt this before and it’s comforting.

But then—

He pushes himself inside me—all in one go.

I lose the ability to breathe for a moment, and when I get it—I gasp for air, struggling not to scream.

“Just breathe, kitten. You are all right. You’ve done this before.” Rai waits for a moment—but only for a moment—licking at my nape and nipping both my ears in that controlling manner of is—before he pulls out and pushes in again. It hurts almost as much the second time, and I’m painfully aware I did _not_ prepare myself enough.

“Please— _please_ —wait—just a moment,” I beg.

“You are so beautiful,” Rai purrs into my ear. “You are a captivating creature. I missed you, too.”

To hear him say these words—right now—it _almost_ makes the pain I’m feeling in my lower half worthwhile. It makes me feel desperate, and my back arches and I relax even more. His movements become smoother as my body accepts him. This is no different from any other time, except that I haven’t fed first and he hasn’t prepared me himself.

“You will _never_  give yourself to another—not while you’re under my protection. Nor will you ever accept blood from another. You are _mine_. Do you understand?” His words are breathed softly, punctuated by ragged breaths, and so sexy and controlling—and why do I enjoy that? Do I long to be controlled?

Only sighs and moans escape my lips, but I try to reply. I turn my head slightly, trying to inhale more of his scent. My claws finally retract—and I feel a hand on my tail and a hand on my cock—stimulating me—tempting me—but I _still_ want to drink his blood.

“Please—just—!”

“ _Submit_ , kitten,” he growls low in my ear, yanking my tail at the base, making me gasp out loud and I shut my mouth in an instant. I am feeling him adjust his angle slightly—looking for that place inside me that makes me go crazy, and I don’t know if I want to submit like that today. I struggle against him for a moment but realize it’s pointless. He’s seeking out my pleasure, after all—and finds it in an instant. 

Because I’ve been fighting it, when he does find it, I lose my ability to control my voice, and it escapes in a loud, almost musical sound.

“You have the most lovely voice, Konoe,” Rai murmurs softly—as he pounds into me. “Let me hear you—sing for me.” 

I can’t help it. I can’t suppress it. It must be because I haven’t fed off his blood and I am so desperate. I _want_ him. 

I become like a beast—making sounds only a beast or a monster would make—and soon, I am at my limit. I just allow myself to fall off the cliff—bathing myself in that pleasure without hesitation—expecting him to follow—and he doesn’t, at least not right away.

Instead—having him continue to thrust into me, even as my climax is trying to fade out, has the strange effect of _extending_ it. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this before, and I feel myself getting _so_ desperate that I'm on the verge of tears.

It’s pleasure, _extreme_ pleasure—but exhausting—and I want to feel his release inside me—that satisfying thick texture that makes me relax and dreamy.

And he then he finally does release—but he pulls out first and climaxes over my ass and back. The tears in my eyes leak out and spill when I feel him pull out of me, and a loud sob—like the one I let escape in the forest seeps out of my body—completely desperate and hopeless.

“Please—Rai—what are you trying to do to me? Please!” I am exhausted, and I still need… him. I am so desperate for his blood and nourishment. _Please_!

My body is shaking and trembling, but I’m too tired, and he lies down next time me, seeing my tears.

“ _Promise_ me,” he whispers, caressing my cheek. “Promise me you will never leave without my consent. Promise you will feed on only me.”

I sob again—loudly. My entire body is _aching_ with exhaustion.

“I _promise_! I’m sorry! Please!”

“Don’t cry, my little vampire,” Rai whispers as he takes me into his arms. “I don't mean to torture you. I only had to be sure.”

And with that, he sweeps me into his arms—and I realize he is still nearly completely dressed. I’m naked and sweating, and he finally offers me his throat.

“Drink your fill, precious kitten.”

Relief floods my body so quickly I almost forget to numb him before I sink in my fangs. And it _isn’t_ that I am starving—it’s that I am _craving_ his taste, his blood. Even while licking his throat with my trembling lips I get a sample from the scent and taste of the sweat on his skin and my entire body reacts. I'm sure he can feel my form almost convulsing in his arms. By the time my fangs sink into his skin, and he sighs his usual sweet sigh—it feels _good_ to have your blood sucked by a vampire—those thick, sweet red drops drip slowly into my mouth, onto my tongue—I’ve never enjoyed a meal so much!

“Hmm. You’re still trembling, kitten. Was it too much for you?”

“Mmm,” I hum softly—content to be sipping the slowly dripping blood from the tiny puncture wound at his neck. Why _don’t_ I wish to drain him? _Hurt_ him? Get my revenge? I feel… _submissive_. His hands amazingly run through my hair and my ears as I drink—where as I usually leave most of my victims paralyzed.

This cat _completes_ me. I will put up with any idiosyncrasy he has in order to consume his blood. And it doesn't take long till I’ve had my fill. I release my fangs and lick his wound, healing it, purring softly, and I curl up in his arms.

“You are relaxed, but you still quiver. Perhaps I went too far. I know you were trying to look for me and trying to help me. But you must learn your place.” His voice still drips like honey into my ears. He enchants me, especially in my dreamy, sleepy state.

His tone makes something inside my chest spike, though—just for an instant, it rises up—and only for a moment. That wild beast inside me that refuses to be tamed or controlled knows that it will _never_ learn its place. I’m here because I _choose_ to be—it’s what I want. Not because this is “my place.” 

But whatever he needs to tell himself. And right now, I’m so relieved to have his body around me, grooming my ears that I don’t have the energy to fight about it.

Maybe next time.

Now, it’s all right. He smells so _right_. And I feel so good. And _he_ feels good. And he’s home. I’m… home.

**Author's Note:**

> For my regular readers: Thanks for your visit. As you might have guessed, one of my series is close to completion, and I'm having anxiety about that. I'm one of the few people in the world who feels worse about finishing anything than having works in progress. So to fix it, I'm starting a fun(?), easy series where I can post all my anxieties. I hope you enjoy it. :)


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